The Quest
by Victoria Breckon
Summary: Aldonza has seen more than her fair share of men, forcibly selling herself to mold to her horrific conditions. Constantly beaten by harsh words and handsy men, she grows to believe that she is worthless, nothing, no one. But what happens when a piece of gold is found against the dark abyss, and Aldonza grows to question who she really is?
1. Chapter 1

Aldonza placed the wooden pails on top of the crumbling brick well, lowering herself onto it with a heavy sigh and a hefty scrape on her exposed legs. She lowered the buckets into the well and felt her arms ache as they gathered the heavy liquid, her biceps straining as she retrieved one and eventually the other. "Aldonza!" a gruff voice yelled from the direction of the inn. It was the innkeeper, her boss, of sorts, and he sounded harried. His bloated form wobbled quickly towards her, his mumbled words drifting towards her through the thick heat of the late afternoon. "Aldonza, hurry, we have new guests!" he cried. "We need fresh water for the men and their burros; throw something on the fire for supper, straighten up the rooms—you did change the linens from the last guests, yes?" He asked, placing a sturdy yet aging hand on her shoulder as he checked off items on his mental, jumbled checklist. "Look nice, my dear." He concluded, sweeping her dark curls to expose bare shoulders. "Where there are men there is desire, and where there is desire there is opportunity." He patted her shoulder gently and turned to leave.

"Comprendo," she sighed, loading her weary arms with the filled buckets as she trudged behind him.

The innkeeper turned to her, a new thought registering and spewing out of his cracked lips. "It might just pay off, Aldonza." He murmured, taking a bucket from her as the two walked quickly to the inn. "Remember what you are here for, _mi hija_." He told her, glancing at her with a fatherly gaze. Aldonza nodded, yielding but understanding, and watched as the innkeeper hurried towards the inn and grumbling about chores and money and time.

The young woman hauled the pails to the courtyard, murky water sloshing out as she advanced with quick, uneven steps. She dumped the entire contents of a pail into the water trough for the horses and burros, the other to boil water for what would soon be chicken and pepper stew. Aldonza made her way to the stables to fill the hay bins and sweep away used hay, broken bottles, ratted blankets from previous guests who were too rude, drunk or a combination of the two to clean up after themselves.

The sounds of crude laughter, yells and the metal clanking of saddles, boots and whips filled the air as the new guests made their way to the rough-looking inn. Aldonza scurried towards the inn and up to her solitary room, hoping to hide herself from the appraising eyes before she absolutely had to. She closed the wooden door behind her and sunk onto the floor, lifting up the floorboard to retrieve a shard of mirror. Placing it on the window sill, she gazed at the sliver of her reflection; she appraised her appearance, noticing the angles of her eyebrows, the cut underneath her left eye, the way her caramel skin flushed above her cheekbones and how the tiny hairs near her forehead and ears plastered themselves to her face with thick, sticky sweat. She rummaged once more through her secreting hiding place in the floorboard and retrieved a darkened piece of wrapped up cloth. Unfolding it, she placed her finger in the red glob and smeared it on her lips, her cheekbones, trying desperately to achieve a healthy looking glow. Dipping another finger into the brown, dirt-looking mound, she darkened her eyebrows and eyes, brushing some of it on her eyelashes so that they spread apart, so that they would dance through the wind and catch the attention of the men.

Aldonza continued her ritual, doing the best she could to cover up scratches and bruises from work-related injuries. Nobody wanted to buy a broken toy. A harsh whistle pierced the air, and Aldonza quickly put her mirror and makeshift makeup into the floor, covering it up as she made her way to the courtyard where the muleteers and innkeeper were gathered. She approached the innkeeper, bowing to him as she waited for her instructions.

"Aldonza, we have guests." The innkeeper told her, gesturing to the rough men. Most had climbed off of their horses and were shielding their eyes from the sun, trading glances with each other as the appraised the young woman. "Attend to their animals and gather their things. Then join me in the kitchen, as I'm sure they've worked up quite the appetite after traveling so far!" The innkeeper appraised the men and pushed Aldonza's lower back, forcing her forward to attend to the chores he had assigned her. "Date priso, mi hija." He murmured to her. "This way, men. Your animals and possessions are in good hands."

Aldonza surveyed the hoard that had recently arrived; some carried knapsacks, others swords and slingshots. They had a collective griminess to them; they reeked of battle, of lust, of sweat and the lucrative yet tiring scent of pure man. She kept her eyes down as she walked in the direction of the stables, lazily grabbing the lead ropes of their animals, moving away from their undressing eyes and prying questions of just how much it would take for them to receive. A darkened muleteer who had a particular swagger in his hips advanced towards her as the innkeeper and some of the muleteers hurried to the kitchen. "My animals may be in good hands for now… But can I be in yours tonight?" He placed a hand on her shoulder and began to lower it towards her bosom, fixing a cocky expression in his slit-like eyes.

"Let's stick with the animals." Aldonza muttered, shaking his hand off and staggering way. A collective, impressed bought of "Ooohs!" and awe came from the muleteers, who were watching in a dog vs. dog challenge style as they each tried out their most effective pick-up lines on the young woman.

"Have you ever been to Salamanca?" A higher-toned voice asked her as his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. He seemed glued to the air of the woman, as if it was the first time in months he had seen one; he appeared younger than the others, like a lost puppy or a little brother.

"Not this again, Anselmo." A voice from the group of muleteers mumbled in an amused tone.

His grip around Aldonza tightened until she turned towards him, answering in a strained voice. "No." She narrowed her muddied eyes at him and pursed her lips impatiently.

"Oh, you haven't?" The muleteer asked, slinking towards her. "Well then you've never felt the best pair of kissing lips against yours. These lips are famous throughout all of Salamanca, sweetheart!" He moved towards her, lips outstretched and eyes closed with boyish desires.

"A man whore for an actual whore!" A tall one with a buzz cut guffawed, and the rest joined in with sick, jolted laughter.

"Get out of the way and let a seasoned pro show you how it goes." A particularly built muleteer, teeming with large muscles and a scraggly beard that flirted with his jaw line, came forward; their eyes met, his olive and questioning, like prying the seal of an envelope as though careful not to tear it, and hers narrowed, assuming slits. He seemed the natural leader of the group, and his comrades quieted down and physically leaned forward as they watched with fascination. Aldonza gauged him, sized up his silhouette, the entire time keeping her stance firm and her visage monotonous with the same stony, set expression. "Hola," he greeted, bowing to her and smirking at her from underneath thick, mahogany eyelashes. "I can't help but notice that you look worn out, exhausted. ¿Está cansado?" He questioned, picking up her hand and firmly holding it, his thumb softly rubbing against her skin, tickling it as he fixated his bewitching smirk on her lips, her face, her eyes.

"What are you getting at?" She asked roughly, though not tearing herself away from his grip as she had the others.

"I'm merely asking, hermoso. Are you tired?"

"I—yes." Aldonza replied, eyeing him suspiciously as the seasoned veteran used one of his greater tricks.

He nodded, knowing, and placed his free hand on her hip. "I have a nice, thick bed of hay in the stable." He told her in a soothing voice as he slowly brought her closer to him.

Aldonza felt her resistance slipping and had to physically shake her head to clear her thoughts. "Ahhh, good." Aldonza replied, slinking towards him and placing a hand on his bare chest that was showing through his sweaty collar. "Eat it." She pushed him backwards, though he instantly retaliated forward.

"You would refuse Pedro?" Anselmo questioned to the rest of the muleteers, and they guffawed and banged their mugs on the roughly-scrubbed table.

"Try me." Aldonza replied simply.

"My mules aren't even this stubborn." Pedro shouted, as if proclaiming a fact that even the dumbest man knew.

"Fine," Aldonza countered, one hand tangling in his locks while the other caressed his strong jawline. "Make love to your mules." She smacked his chin so that his head tilted back and turned swiftly on her heel, bringing with her their animals and an extra pail of water. She listened as she walked the badgering that Pedro was receiving from his comrades.

"Some expert!" One of them guffawed.

"Yeah!" One of them cried. "Anselmo, don 't listen to your hermano. He doesn't know what he's doing."

"Is that why I've had more action in the past month than all of you combined?" Pedro asked in a domineering, heavy voice. "She's just a… she's more resistance."

"She's tight!" One of them murmured, raising a new bout of dirty laughter.

"Oh, no, that one?" One of them asked. "She's loose."

Their voices slowly drifted away as Aldonza approached the stable, and while she could feel the eyes of the four men staring at her, watching her, she felt as though she had won the battle… for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Aldonza set the plate of runny pork roast on the table and watched the hoard of muleteers dive towards it as if it was the first time they had seen substantial food in months. Perhaps it was. She listened to the clanking of silverware as she maneuvered around them, filling mugs with wine and beer and dodging tidbits of flying food from mouths and grabby hands. The innkeeper bustled out of the kitchen and placed more bowls on the table, overflowing with steamed vegetables and rice and beans before taking his place at the head of the table. "Well, gentlemen, I see you're eating."

"As well as the mules." One of them muttered, receiving a smack on the head from one Aldonza had learned as Paco.

"God forbid." Aldonza murmured, sliding in between the innkeeper and Anselmo as she took her seat and began to quickly eat what was left of their feast of sorts.

"So, Pedro, your friends and yourself—where are you heading?" The innkeeper asked with polite interest, tearing off a piece of pork and eyeing him across the table. His free hand let go of the grip on his napkin and rubbed a calming thumb across Aldonza's, smiling at her and nodding to make nice with their guests.

Pedro downed the contents of his mug and nodded to Aldonza, who promptly stood up and filled it along with others who were finishing theirs as well. "We come from Salamanca and the nearby villages, the hills and plains, mi amigo. We are what they call wandering souls, restless natives…" A glazed expression filled his eyes as he spoke, staring off into the distance with reverence to his title. "We were originally commissioned by Juan's father to wrangle the wild donkeys and horses of the area, and we did that for a while. But, the wild mistress of Adventure beckoned us to her, and we've been following her ever since." He took a hefty chug from his mug and glanced at Aldonza across the table, that same damned smirk rearranging his features as he wiggled his brows at her. She lowered her eyes, the grip on her knife becoming tighter along with the tug on her heartstrings.

"This mistress, the lewd Adventuress, where will she take you?" The innkeeper asked as he scraped the remains from his plate.

"Precisely." Pedro replied with a cocky grin. "We never know where we are going to end up. That's what keeps it exciting, new, fresh, uninhibited." Never during this string of sentences did his leave the mocha orbs of Aldonza's, and she huffed with frustration at the pull he seemed to have over her being, her conscious attention, her knowledge. "But we pick up jobs where we can, mainly herding cattle or butchering, working on a ranch when we come across one for a month at a time."

The innkeeper seemed to have gained the knowledge he desired. "Ahh, well, Aldonza, it looks like we can end our search for hard-working farm hands." He exclaimed, standing up and crossing over to Pedro. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I'd like you to take over the neighboring farm. The crops have been failing miserably in this weather, and the old man who owns the land, his wife just died, and we haven't seen him since. For all we know, he could be dead, too." He proclaimed roughly, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "For 10 pesos a week, you won't find much a better deal than this."

Pedro considered this offer, bringing a hand up to stroke his facial hair, his jaw. "Free room and board?" He questioned, nodding to his friends around the table and fixing a powerful stare on the innkeeper.

"A 2 peso cut for food and amenities." The innkeeper bargained with slick wit.

"Make it 15 and you've got a deal, old man."

Aldonza caught the attention of the innkeeper and internally fought through what would be best for the inn and what would be best for her. However, the innkeeper was already extending a hand, shaking his head with surprised pleasure. "Well, boys, it looks like we will be seeing a lot of each other for the next while." He shook Pedro's hand and made a loop around the table, shaking hands with each of the muleteers. "Aldonza, clear the table." He ordered like an afterthought. "Make yourself useful."

She scarfed down the rest of her food before rising, collecting plates and lustful advances as she made her way to the kitchen, burdened with plates and mugs and an uncomfortable lump in her stomach. She hurried through her evening chores, washing the dishes and mugs with quick, thoughtless motions so she could retreat to her room. She had forgotten how tiring it was to be sought after, and while it seemed like a shallow desire, to be alone when in the company of such willing and advancing customers, she needed her space.

Aldonza crept to her room and shut the door, lighting a makeshift cigarette as she cracked a window open. She found her tiny mirror and touched her provisional makeup, jumping and cringing when she heard a brash knock on her door. Without an answer it opened, and she shoved the mirror and makeup into the floorboard under the judging eyes of the stranger. "Getting pretty for later?" He asked, shutting the door softly behind him though maintaining his distance. Pedro leaned against the wall, tilting his sweaty locks against the rough adobe brick. He huffed out a chuckle as Aldonza gathered her skirt around her ankles, backing up to lean her back against the window sill. "You have many who would pay more than enough for your services."

She coughed out a rough cackle. "Si, thank you for telling the blind women what she obviously can't see."

"Mad yet curious..." He murmured, lowering himself onto the ground, though still maintaining a safe distance from her. "Tsk tsk tsk. You must not have ever heard of it."

"Heard of what?" Aldonza asked automatically, mentally rolling her eyes from his hard-to-follow wit.

"The cat, and how it was killed by curiosity." He told her, a grin rearranging his features. "A pussy can only be fulfilled if it gives into curiosity." Now was his turn to choke out a harsh laugh.

"Oh, you're funny." Aldonza exclaimed roughly. "Real funny. This pussy's already had its deal of curiosity, thank you." She stood and glanced out the window, and felt a dark shadow loom over her.

"There's always room for more." Pedro mumbled to her, spinning her around so that she was forced to look into her eyes.

"There's always room for stupidity, but it seemed like the cat didn't have that, hmm?" Aldonza replied, nodding her head in self-approval of her quick-tongued wit.

Pedro frowned and moved his hand as if to push her snarled curls out of her face, though thought against it, instead lowering his hand into his pocket. "You've a lot to learn, mi parajito." He sighed, turning away from her and walking towards the door.

He had successfully spiked her interest. "And what is that?" She called out, taking a few defiant steps towards him. He turned to face her once more, a new smile filling his features. This one was new, softer, accepting and unassuming; still a tinge of arrogance filled his face like a natural blush.

"Curiosity and stupidity are hardly equals." He murmured, drawing her closer to him with his words, his scent, his rooted yet shifting intentions. "To be curious you have to wonder, to dream. To be stupid you have to fail to acknowledge the inconceivable."

Aldonza's glaring eyes soften to shaped orbs. "What does that mean, inconceivable?" She asked quietly.

"The impossible." Pedro nearly whispered. "You are a learning kitty cat. You need an older one to guide you, help you weed out the rats from the mice." He puffed out his chest and drew her towards him with his olive eyes. "Can you tell which one I am?" He asked her, biting his lip with solitary curiosity.

"You?" She questioned, slinking towards him and sliding a hand around his abdomen. She pushed her body against his, her roughly rouged lips tickling from his facial scruff. "You're a rat." She leaned a hand back and swung, slapping him fiercely across the face. She watched as he brought a surprised hand to his cheek, his other one clenching roughly with agitation; his eyebrows knit themselves together, forming in the center as the left side of his face reddened from the harsh slap. "Do you think I'm stupid?" Aldonza questioned furiously. "You think I don't know anything about men, about desire, about giving myself away?" She took a few disconcerted steps backwards until she was against the opposing wall, shaking with rage. "This isn't my first rodeo. I can take care of myself because you- you aren't the first _hombre_ that has come through here with a smart tongue and dominating drive." She spat as Pedro moved towards her with the slightest of steps. "You think you're special?" She cried in a hoarse voice. "You're conniving, rough, sneaky. You're nothing but a filthy rat."

By this point Pedro was inches from her; Aldonza's nose came up to his throat, her shoulders to his chest. He brought a hand back and Aldonza set her jaw, her nose, throat and eyes cringing as she waited for the blow, the smack, the tears that would inevitably fall from the pain.

Seconds passed, which began to feel like minutes. Aldonza opened her eyes and was surprised to see Pedro's looking into hers with his trademark smirk. A single hand came up and caressed her face, her hair. "My little kitty cat," He crooned to her in a sickly-beautiful tenor tone. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Kitty cats chase rats." He brought a strand of her hair to his nose and inhaled deeply, letting it go as he turned on his heel and exited the room with a bemused laugh. Aldonza scowled, through remained on the wall for several more minutes, maybe even hours.

"Aldonza!" The beleaguered voice of the innkeeper called through the inn. The young woman sighed and made her way to the courtyard. "Aldonza, where have you been?" The innkeeper asked her pointedly. "Our guests have been clamoring about you."

"Oh, I'm sure." Aldonza muttered to herself, straightening her shoulders as if preventing further snark from escaping. "What can I do for you, senor?"

A tired smile crossed the innkeeper's face. "Attend to these men. Make them feel like they're at home—like they're the luckiest men in all of España. You know what to do." He gave her a firm nod in their direction, and she sighed, unable and unwilling to explain her personal objection.

"Aldonza!" A deep voice called out into the night, letting his plea soar towards the stars.

"See?" The innkeeper grinned. "They want you to join them. Go, mi hija." He urged, pushing her forward so that Aldonza was shuffling towards the courtyard where hardy banter and laughs were erupting.

Juan fingered the guitar, his eyes closed in concentration and bliss as the music soared from the instrument filling the humid air with rhythm, beat, fervent feelings. Aldonza leaned against the adobe building, tapping her foot to the beat of the Spanish music. Upon her arrival, the muleteers whistled and cheered; some ventured over to her, others shot her sultry looks across the courtyard. The rhythm continued through her figure, gliding and electrifying her frame until she was moving, dancing, shaking her hips as a pair of drums were spontaneously added to music. A new wave of cheers burst forth from the men as she began to dance, lifting her skirt with traditional style as she salsa'd around them. A song was started, and soon the love-starved dreamers were dancing around her. "I come for love!" One called out, followed by the others repeating the same line. "I come for love! I come to Aldonza for love!" They cheered.

Strong arms were suddenly placed on her waist, and she shook them to the rhythm, stepping forward and backwards until she was spun towards the man. Aldonza stared up into the eyes of Anselmo, his round, boyish cheeks set with concentration as his hands gripped her shimmying hips; he was red, excited from the pleasure of a woman this close to him. He couldn't have been a day over eighteen; he was the little dog among a pack of established ones. She titled towards him but was soon being taken into a new pair of arms. "Not today, mi hermanito." Pedro called to him, gripping Aldonza against him as they shook to the rhythm. "Hola, mi gato." He hummed into her ear. "Still chasing rats I see."

Aldonza huffed and tore herself from his arms, falling into the outstretched ones of Paco. He picked her up and danced with her, her legs flailing and her arms holding on protectively around his neck as she was flipped back onto her feet. Juan ended the song sauntered towards her, a gold piece outstretched towards her. Pedro stepped in front of Aldonza, blocking the opposing muleteer from her view. "Woah, mi amigo. What do you think you're doing?" He asked Juan, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest.

"If you would get out of my way, _mi amigo_," Juan mocked. "I'm going to pay a beautiful woman to make me the happiest man on planet Earth."

Pedro clenched his fists and cracked his neck to the side. "Ahh, but you see, you don't want to do that, as she is not yours to request." He took a single step towards Juan and ripped the dinero from his hand.

Juan struck a similar pose, his five inch difference not playing in his favor. "And she's yours for the renting?" He questioned roughly, spitting on the toe of Pedro's cowhide boots.

"Who got us here, who helped us get a job here, mi amigo?" Pedro questioned harshly yet still calmly, as if slicing him slowly open. Anselmo came to his side, his whip outstretched towards his brother. Pedro shook his head, instead turning towards Aldonza. He handed her the gold piece instead, winking slyly as he removed his leather vest and shirt. "Tonight, mi puta." He told her, clearly determining who was the dominant leader before sizing up Juan before forcing him into a headlock. He held on tight, his muscles stretching against his leathery, caramel skin. Juan let out an angry cry as he was forced to the ground. He kicked against Pedro's exterior and attempted to bite down on his arm, which was locked around his neck. Pedro's free hand swung around and punched Juan in his head, a fleshy collision taking him to the ground; he swung his legs over Juan's struggling form and brought flailing fists onto his swaying, bruising form. Cheers erupted from Anselmo, Paco and the other muleteers as their fearless leader depicted who was in charge through physical tactics.

"Tregua!" Juan called out in a high-pitched voice, using his native tongue to verbally raise the white flag of truce. Pedro hesitantly climbed off of him, kicking his side with the toe of his boot as he laid there, groaning from his "lesson."

Pedro wiped his brow and turned towards Aldonza, retrieving his whip from Anselmo and putting on his vest. "Half past midnight," He told her, loud enough for Juan to hear. He winked once, turning around to give a final blow to Juan with his whip before stepping over his body and settling at the table, where more wine and beer was consumed.


	3. Chapter 3

"I mean, it's not even fair." A high-pitched whine filled the humid, nighttime air. Aldonza piled the last of the plates in the sink and began to scrub at the crusted food and sticky mugs with her filthy rag, dunking it into the dirtied water and forcing her nails against the rough metal, the softening wood. "He thinks he can just take her from me because he's stronger, bigger? No way in God's name does he have a bigger dick than me, that nasty son of a bitch." The voice wailed and severely cut off, like a goose who had been struck by a fatal bullet and was nose-diving to its death.

"Here, drink more of this, mi amigo." A voice replied, and loud slurps were heard in the courtyard, where a mighty fire was roaring. A few muleteers sat around it, drinking and trading stories, whispering gossip and planning the new days' adventures. "Hey, Aldonza, you kitchen slut you. Get your firm little ass out here and gimme s'more beer." Juan yelled, throwing his empty mug to the ground. It rolled dangerously close to the fire. "Ahh, shit." He muttered, leaning down to grab it. He stumbled and tipped over, the end of his long, black locks sitting in the open flame like a pig for roasting.

"Juan, levántate!" Paco called out when he noticed his friend was on fire. Aldonza, who was emerging from the kitchen with mugs and a container of ale, noticed the commotion and ran to the scene, pouring the ale roughly over Juan as she gripped his arms underneath his armpits, toppling back from the weight so that his adrenaline-filled body was laid against hers.

Juan, still under the drunken impression that he was on fire, squirmed around the ground, shouting curses and rolling on the ground, trying to physically rid himself of the flame and terror. Aldonza crawled out from underneath his figure and promptly kicked him in the side. "Shut up, you vile poxy goat!" She spat. "You'll wake the entire inn. You're not on fire, you drunken idiot." Juan stopped convulsing and looked up at her innocently, as if she was Jesus Christ himself and had just rid him of his many sins.

"Angel?" he whispered, gathering to his knees as he approached her, hands clasped together in prayer. "You have saved me from this hell." He stopped in front of her and placed meaty hands around her hips. "It's not looking good for you," he murmured, gazing up at her with wide eyes. His eyebrows angled and suddenly he pushed hard on her lower back, forcing her to nearly snap in half as she toppled to the ground. "Prepare to feel my internal flame inside of you, bitch!" He yelled into the night, and he clambered on top of her, yanking at her shirt and tripping out his trousers as the small heard of muleteers whistled and cheered and gathered around the forceful man and unconsulting woman.

Aldonza pierced the sky with a terrified scream and attempted to claw at his eyes, his abdomen, his back; Juan was too much, too heavy, too consumed by the deadly power of alcohol to be tamed, stopped. With cringed eyes, she laid her neck back and waited for it to be over, deciding that it would be easier to remain still so that he could finish sooner than if she was squirming. Juan removed a single hand from her body to lower his trousers, angled eyebrows framing menacing eyes as he stared with a drunken glaze at her. "He thinks that you're his little f-flower!" Juan spat, fumbling with the buttons on his pants. "He thinks he's the only one who can get action. Well I'll show him who can g-get action! I'll show you lots of actions, you filthy whore—AIEEEE!" Juan screamed a loud, powerful scream. It echoed through the courtyard with the intensity of a stampede as Pedro slammed him, back first, into the ground. Aldonza scrambled to her feet and covered her exposed body, eyes glued to the action before her.

"Getting a little _cocky_, are we?" Pedro growled in a ghastly tone. He loomed over Juan's shrunken, pitiful form, which was cowering below the powerful leader.

"I do what I want, who I want, when I want, and you can't stop me!" He called out bravely, though his voice broke into his higher octave.

"Juan, shut up!" Paco cried out, huddling around the men with the other muleteers. "You're drunk, mi amigo!" He glanced at Pedro and gestured to his comrade on the floor. "He's drunk, senor, he doesn't know what he's saying." Pedro considered this and kicked his toe in the dirt, his figure engorged with rage. He spat on the ground and kicked the mound of dirt and spit onto Juan. "You sicken me. Just because a man is consumed by the monstrosity that is alcohol does not mean that he has the right or privilege to assault a woman!" He knelt next to Juan and harshly slapped him across the face. "Did you pay her?" He questioned roughly.

Juan shook his head and began to cry, pathetic wails wracking his shaking figure.

"Then what in the hell do you think you're doing?" He stood up and crossed to the slinking figure of Aldonza, who was illuminated by the fire; her midnight curls were strewn across her neck, shoulders, face, and fresh cuts and splotches of bruises littered her arms, chest, legs. Pedro looked into her eyes and was able to decipher the hidden fear, the wretchedness, the hatred of a life that she didn't choose. Turning to the men, he exclaimed in an assertive voice, "It's time to go to bed. When the sun cracks over the horizon, I expect you up and ready to work. Tomorrow's going to be the hardest day of your life if I have any say in it. And last time I checked—" He fixed a terrifying glare on Juan, "I was the leader." With a final kick he left them, retreating to the inn with a limping Aldonza.

Pedro maintained a safe distance from the woman as she hobbled to her room, taking a few moments to lean against the doorframe before pushing it open wearily. With a hefty sigh she turned to glance at him, where he was waiting at the door like a wandering sheep. "Aren't you going to come in?" She questioned, and he couldn't help but notice the ring of grey and purple that was watercoloring itself across her left eye. Pedro nodded and entered the shabby room, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Sit," she muttered to him, lighting a candle and then a cigarette. She roughly closed the makeshift blinds of tattered cloth and sat atop the wooden windowsill. Taking a drag from the cigarette, she lazily puffed the hazy smoke out, watching it swirl through the curtains and into the night air, the cool breath of the moon. "Why are you doing this?" She questioned. It hung in the air like the smoke, tangling itself through the atmosphere that separated the two.

"I—Do what?" Pedro asked quietly, pointedly looking around the room at the makeshift bed in the corner, the loose floorboard.

"Oh, don't play stupid with me, _guacho_." She choked through a rough cough. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't even try to play. What is it you want?" She continued, fixing her eyes upon his coarse form. "You want money? Sex? Wine? What do you want from me?"

She met Pedro's olive eyes and fiercely glared into them, the bruises and shadows from the harshly-lit room transforming her visage into one of a monster. He maintained eye contact and bit his lip as he thought. "Here comes the kitty cat again," he murmured to her, a devilish smile moving his cheeks and eyebrows higher on the planes of his face.

"What do you mean?" Aldonza quickly retorted, eyes shifting away from his as she moved a curtain to stare out into the night.

"Curiosity is going to lead you to your grave." He told her. "Why do you wonder what it is I want from you, when really you should be asking yourself what you want from me?"

Aldonza's brows knitted together as she fought to comprehend his confusing jumble of words. "I don't—I don't understand."

"Ahh, mi gato, you're progressing." He clicked his tongue proudly. "Learning to ask for help is the first step to—"

"I'm not asking for help." She replied roughly. "I don't need help."

A patch of silence filled the space between them as she slowly examined her arms, her legs, her hands caressing the scars and scratches and mounds of purpling skin. The wind whistled softly through the night and in the far off distance a pair of owls exchanged personal renditions of their very own music of the night. "Whatever you say, kitty." He finally responded, watching as Aldonza slowly stood and crossed to her cot. She moved a pail from the wall and looked into it, sighing as she ripped off a piece of her skirt and dunked it into it. Removing it, she wrung out semi-clear liquid from it and slid her tattered shirt down one shoulder, blotting and applying pressure to the fresh wounds. A hiss of agony escaped her clenched lips and her body trembled slightly from the waves of pain. Pedro stood and hesitantly ambled towards her, kneeling. He took the rag from her hand and looked into her eyes, nodding softly before continuing to softly blot, softly clean, softly examine with compassionate eyes.

Aldonza slowly lowered herself to the floor and allowed herself to be cared for. So many times it was she who was left with the unknown task of attending to her wounds, to trying in vain to reach the gashes on her back, to lying on the filthy floor as dirt and manure ground infectiously into her open wounds. She sighed thankfully as Pedro carefully washed her skin, watching as the skin transformed from puffy, festering, oozing red to softer, slightly purple caramel. A wave of goose bumps erupted on her skin as Pedro unbuttoned her shirt with the skill and modesty of a surgeon, tending to the wounds that were on her back, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. At different intervals a soft sigh would escape Aldonza's chapped lips; it was the closest thing she could give to a thank you.

Pedro wrung out the rag and draped it across the windowsill as Aldonza climbed atop her cot, physically relaxing as her body met the softer fabric that was stuffed with worn-out hay. Draping a blanket over her, he blew out the candle and turned to leave.

"Pedro?" Aldonza called out in a tone that was more needy than she would ever admit to.

Pedro turned around and met her luring eyes through the semi-darkness.

"Will you stay with me?" She questioned softly, like a child asking for a final hug from a dying relative, a reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Without replying, Pedro positioned himself on the cot, maneuvering his body until his arms were softly woven around Aldonza's middle, hands clasping neatly over his through the sack-like blanket. "I'll ask you one more time," Aldonza murmured through nearly-closed lips. "What do you want from me?"

"Your consent." Pedro whispered softly, tickling her ear and neck with his warm, lucrative breath.

Aldonza sighed roughly. "What does that mean?"

"Your permission," Pedro replied calmly, methodically. "to let me show you how a man should treat a woman."

"Alright," Aldonza replied as she drifted into a hazy, dream-like state. "You do that, Pedro. Show 'em who's boss."

Pedro snorted back a laugh. "Oh, don't you worry, mi gato. I will." He tightened his grip around her and felt her melt into sleep, the rigidness of her body relaxing as she reached a state of worry-free bliss.


	4. Chapter 4

Aldonza jolted awake as an out of tune trumpet pierced the air with wailing, alerting notes. A response of deep groans could be heard echoing throughout the inn, and the shuffling of feet and clicking of boots soon exited and quieted with a dull roar. The sun was just beginning to peek over the rolling hills of El Tobozo; a new day was dawning. "Pedro?" she murmured, turning on her back with a grimace to glance for the man. He was nowhere to be found; the dirtied mattress was still indented from where his sleeping figure had been, so it was clear to Aldonza that it had not been a harmless dream but, in fact, reality.

She shivered violently as the morning sun crept through the curtains and tickled her toes. Aldonza had been so warm in the night, cocooned with blankets against the soft mattress. She searched for them and pulled them over her naked body, releasing an audible sigh as the shivers slowly ended and warmth was restored to her bruised, living figure. In and out of sleep she faded, and soon the cock was crowing and an angry fist was pounding at her door. "Aldonza, do you know what hour it is? Get up—the men are ravaged!"

The voice of the innkeeper woke her from her dreamless sleep and she jolted awake for the second time that morning. "Shit," she murmured , stumbling and cringing as she stood up quickly, testing the limits of how much weight she could put on a single leg as she hopped and pulled on a skirt, a ragged top. Tying her hair with a scarf, she yanked the door open and ran head first into the innkeeper. "Lo siento, Fernando." She murmured apologetically, glancing up at him through thick eyelashes that were still caked with sleep.

"Aye, it's okay, but get out there, quick, mi hija." He slapped her butt to force her forward and she hurried to the kitchen, appearing moments later with plates and mugs and food as she bustled into the courtyard.

"Ahh, there's the little gem." Paco called out, stretching his arms to envelope her in a sideways hug. She nodded to him, placing the bowls on the table as she maneuvered around it.

"Aye, amigo, don't you mean the one who forced us to work this morning?" Anselmo asked innocently.

"I did no such thing," Aldonza replied in a dark tone. "I merely saved your friend here—" she punched Juan's arm with a huff, "—from burning to death. I didn't ask to be ravaged." The words hung in the air for a few moments, heavy and thick like the smoke from the previous evening's fire. She continued around the table, making several rounds to the kitchen and back with various plates of tortillas, a pot of stew, a bowl of rice and beans.

As she made her way for a final visit, she nearly ran into Pedro, who emerged from the inn with a clean shirt and pants on. He was not dirtied from the fields like his friends, but on the contrary looked as though he had bathed, combed his hair, washed his clothes. "Ahh, it's the kitty cat." He murmured, reaching out to grab her hand. Aldonza pulled him into the kitchen behind her and felt a wave of electricity spark through her from the mere skin contact. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine, thank you." She replied quickly. He followed her through the intricate turns on the table, halting when she opened a cabinet or stooped to gather mugs from lower cupboards. "Why do you ask, hmm?"

Pedro fixated her with a stare until she was forced to stop her searching, gathering, and look into his irritably attractive eyes. "Why?" She repeated as she was physically drawn towards him.

Seemingly pleased with the effect he was having on her, he leaned forward so that his breath tickled her lips, his nose giving hers the slightest of kisses. "So you can be prepared to be up all night when you meet me in the stable." He murmured seductively, lowering his eyes so that he was staring up at her, tickling her senses with the feathers of his words. Aldonza felt her tongue go dry and her heart beat faster, though she stood up straight and turned from him with an angry sulk.

"What I give, I choose." She told him in a colorless tone, the complete opposite of her spiraling, tye-dyed feelings.

"Ahh, but," Pedro murmured to her, slinking closely behind her until his hands were intertwined around her curves. "Why do I have the feeling you will give me whatever I desire?" He placed a single kiss on the back of her neck, amidst her hairline. "Is it that damned curiosity again?" He continued. "That you struggle so much with, mi gato? I might intrigue you but, unlike the great sorcerer that is curiosity, I will not kill you."

"Good." Aldonza replied quickly, shoving her way through the door, arms tangled with multiple mugs. "Pass that along to your friends, why don't you? 'Seems as though they could learn that lesson." She set the mugs on the table roughly and smacked away prying hands from a few risky muleteers, settling herself at her usual spot to the left of the innkeeper as the hoard began to eat. Pedro seated himself across from her and started to banter with his comrades; Juan was a heaving heap at the end of the table, the results of the previous evening's hangover treating him unkindly.

"My apologies for the lack of food this morning, men." Fernando called out to them through bits of food. "It seems one of us decided to sleep in and neglect her chores." He stared pointedly at Aldonza as she raised her eyes to the group, nodding apologetically.

"Lo siento." She murmured.

"Ahh, it's okay." Pedro spoke collectively. "The men were up anyways. As it seemed some of them decided to act despicably last night, they were punished by tilling the entire ten acres of Senor's farm, aye boys?" The muleteers around them focused on their foods, keeping their eyes down as they nodded roughly. Glares were shot to Juan, who was dry heaving and pushing his food away from him.

"Last night?" The innkeeper responded inquisitively. "What happened last night?"

"Oh?" Pedro questioned with rough sarcasm. "I suspected that Juan woke the entire country with his drunken slurs. Would you care to fill them in, mi amigo?" He questioned, receiving a violent sob and shake of the head from the one in question. "Ahh, well I guess I'll have to tell the tale." Pedro concluded, folding his hands on the table and pushing his empty plate away with an angry shove. "Juan decided it was a good idea to catch his filthy ass on fire. Aldonza heard the commotion and rushed over to him, lifting him away from the flames and putting them out before he promptly attempted to take advantage of her while the others—" He glared around at his comrades with a sickened expression playing on his features. "—stood around and watched, cheered, even."

The innkeeper choked on his mouthful of wine as angry fists pounded the table. His eyes met Aldonza's, who were staring at him with a blank expression. "Is this true?" He asked her.

"Si," she replied almost inaudibly. "It's nothing to worry about, I'm fine—"

"That's what the black eye is telling me." He replied roughly, shaking the table as he pushed himself up from it. "Senor Juan," he addressed the huddled figure, who rose his head ever so slightly. "If I catch you ever trying to take advantage of mi hija without first paying her, I will personally kill you." He lowered his eyes to his as he spewed his verbal venom. "Now get up from my table and get out of my sight."

Aldonza watched as he stumbled up and hurried towards the inn. "Filthy son of a bitch," he murmured, patting her shoulder with a remorseful look as he slid by her and towards the opposite end of the inn.

Standing, Aldonza began to collect the empty plates and mugs, though not before exclaiming, "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Is that right?" Anselmo replied, turning his body to look up at the woman. "After all my brother's done for you, you're going to say that when it's obviously not true?" He turned to glance at Pedro, shaking his head. "I told you this one was trouble." She scoffed and slunk towards the kitchen, her head spinning from the desire and warning signs that were tangoing in mind, her thoughts, her feelings.

Aldonza finished clearing the plates and was scraping the remains into the feed bucket for the swine when she heard a faint voice from the other room call her name. "Aldonza." It was a deep voice, camouflaged by a raspy tone that was questioning, intriguing. She set down her buckets and marched into the room yet again, her eyes demanding but her demeanor curious. "What is it?"

"She doesn't want you, how could you think that?" A new voice replied; this one was higher and more vicious, mocking.

"I don't, it's just—she's different, 'Selmo. She's hot."

"Well, anyone with eyes could see that." His friend replied, a dark chuckle escaping him. "I mean, look at the size of her—"

"You don't get it." Aldonza identified the first voice as Pedro, and instinctually slinked behind the corner, listening to the private conversation. "She's hot, but not just physically—she's a fire."

There was a pause in the conversation, and then, finally, "No, she's a woman."

The scraping of a single chair filled the room, and Aldonza turned to leave when she heard, "A woman is a fire, man. She's bright and emits sparks when she talks and when she pushes me or refuses my advances, it shoots a flame through me."

"Doesn't that hurt?" Anselmo questioned seriously, not understanding.

"Love hurts, mi amigo." Pedro replied smartly, punching his friend in the arm before taking his seat once again. "That's why it's not easy."

"Love, huh? But you just met her—"

"And you're as dumb as a sack of rotten potatoes. As long as we're both stating facts…" Pedro exclaimed roughly. "Don't question it."

"I—fine, I just thought—"

"Don't." Pedro answered. "It doesn't do you much good."

Aldonza leaned against the adobe brick wall, her head aching from this process of new information, her heart aching from wanting to believe him. Did he really feel that way about her? And if he did, how was it possible? Did he not realize who she was? She was unlovable, conceived under false pretenses and forced to live her life as filthy scum, murdering scum of the earth. It's not like she had a choice, so who did this man think he was that he could just come into her inn and dictate how her feelings were going to change? It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and it was completely irrevocable.

The day continued and passed through a current of chores, preparation for meals, a solitary horseback through the rolling hills and into town to pick up necessary items for the upcoming week. The moon rose fully into the sky, illuminating the terrain of El Tobozo with a ghostly light. Aldonza gathered her meager items and adjusted her airy robozo, gliding through the night until she was slipping through the Southern stable door. It was lit with a single candle, though there was no one inside it. She was sure Pedro had told her half past midnight, and she was positive that the moon gave its brightest glow at that hour. Glancing around, she placed her belongings in the corner and removed the rebozo, startling when she heard a voice close to her murmur smoothly, "Ahh, it's the kitty cat, come to catch her rat." Pedro approached her, removing his vest and tossing it lazily to the ground so that his formed chest gleamed in the hazy candlelight. Aldonza swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat and forced herself to look into his eyes.

"Alright, let's do this." She exclaimed, stifling her nerves as she took in his figure, the atmosphere, the sounds of the restless flies and lazy livestock. "What do you want?"

Pedro fixated his trademark smirk on her and pulled her against him; her arms instinctually wrapped themselves around his back, and she could feel his strong shoulder blades underneath her pulsating touch. He laid her down on a hay bale and leaned over her, whispering languidly in her ear, "I thought you told me that what you give, you choose."

"I—I do." She responded as he kissed her cheek, her neck, his hands tangling in the material of her shirt, between the layers of her skirts and eventually her bare skin, tickling with his lips, his tongue, his breath. "I do choose."

"Then choose." He mumbled against her skin, placing his knees on either side of her thighs and gyrating his hips with an impromptu shimmy.

"I choose you." She responded automatically, forcing her neck up so that she could look into his eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him on top of her pulsing figure. He kissed her slowly, passionately, deliberately moving his lips at the pace of a tired waltz. "I could do this for hours." He told her teasingly, tasting her frustration and yearning that so often chose each other as partners.

"Please," Aldonza murmured, choking back a whine in her throat. "Please don't."

"Don't what, mi gato?" He asked with genuine curiosity. His eyebrows knitted together as he rose from her form.

"No!" she cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders and bringing him against her once more. "Don't do this for hours—do it now."

"Now," he repeated, grinning at the effect he was having on her. "Now it is, then."

If Pedro was somewhat gentle towards Aldonza before, he was anything but when he made love to her. He shoved her roughly against the hay and clawed at her shirt, reveling in the feeling of her breasts under the lash of his nails, his teeth, his prying fingers. She howled out in pain that was mixing with pleasures as he removed her skirt and shoved himself roughly on top of her, his hips smacking into hers with a fleshy collision that emitted cries from both of them. It was rough, rushed, and completely, dominatingly hot. Aldonza winced and cringed and yet begged for more, feeling as though her heart was going to beat out of her chest as Pedro emitted a victorious, concluding groan.

The two fell into a heap of tangled limbs as they breathed as one, sticky hair plastering itself to their drenched skin as they huddled together, held each other, came down from the high that had filled the night with passion, sounds and humidity.

"Te amo, mi gato." Pedro crooned into her neck, his eyes closed and a pleased look expressed on his smooth features.

Aldonza nodded. She had heard this expression many times, though mostly it was just an excuse for more sex, more money, more manipulation. Something about this one was different, though, she reasoned. This one, he was concerned for her. He looked out for her, aided her, took care of enemies for her. Was it possible that he could love her after all? And if he did—could she reciprocate their feelings?

"Pedro?" She murmured against his forehead. She arranged herself so that she was on her knees, her womanly curves accentuated by the lights as she stretched her knees over his stomach, against his thighs. Aldonza was sure of one thing: Pedro loved her. She, however, was struggling with an internal tug of war on where her feelings were for him. Nevertheless she lowered her ass until it was rubbing against his crotch and brought her lips to the corner of his mouth, sucking softly as her breasts hung and met his chest with skin-on-skin contact. "Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you are going to kill me if I can't have you again."

A surprised smirk overtook Pedro's features as Aldonza lowered herself fully onto him, and soon the two were rolling in the hay, filling the night with sounds of wild love.


	5. Chapter 5

Aldonza woke briefly, as if her eyes had been kissed by an angel, the tender skin pressing against hers with the slightest of pressures, the thin, loving moisture alerting her to come back to consciousness. They opened softly, curiously, like a newborn who was seeing the wonders of the world and the miracles of life around them for the first time. She glanced around secretly, taking time to adjust to the lack of light, the thick, penetrating darkness that seemed to absorb sound, create its own futile music of the night. It created madness from promises of love, easing her dwindling fears that the feeling was nothing but smoke and mirrors, madness and lies, insanity at its finest.

She fixed her sleepy, film-infused eyes on Pedro, who was sleeping soundly next to her. He was laid on his back, his arm outstretched underneath her as his hand wrapped around to cup her shoulder, pulling her into his warmth, his aura, his presence. His eyes were smoothly lidded, his indulgent eyebrows framing his features; his mouth hung slightly agape and a discreet bought of snores crept from his figure. He seemed entirely relaxed; for once, Aldonza noticed, he wasn't worried about putting up a front for others. He wasn't the leader, the one who was forced to exert his dominating charisma in order to help them survive, in order to keep him sane. He wasn't the boss, the enemy, the cocky, arrogant one. He was merely Pedro Antonin, the muleteer who, as Aldonza had experienced firsthand, had a gentler side when he was enamored by beauty and personality.

She nudged herself closer to him, bumping her knees into his and tangling their ankles together like an inseparable knot. Aldonza was unable to decipher exactly why he had chosen to be so kind to her. Many men had paid for her services and had been rough, rude, downright mean and disgusting and brutal, as Juan had exemplified the previous evening. Most simply turned the other cheek, pretending with good Christian charity that the crime they had witnessed was simply a business transaction.

It's not like she had a choice, honestly. She was desperately spawned and simply, easily forgotten. The world would remain spinning if she had never born. She had no purpose, and yet was forced to find one, create one so that she could sustain herself, survive. It was not considered living, because to live was to dream that there were situations out there that were better, that were feasible, that were attainable. No one wanted to give that chance to a filthy whore, the bread crumbs in the feast of life that was consumed by the rich and prevalent.

Pedro was the second person to give her a feeling of anything but despair, self-hatred not of herself but of what she was forced to become to mold into her circumstances; Fernando had been the first, when he took her in from the streets during her conviction of adultery with the local Padre. He brought her to the inn, gave her a roof and a meal every day; after she was found innocent, she remained there and had been working ever since, earning a minimal wage and helping the kind old man with whatever she could. Pedro, though…

There was something unique about Pedro Antonin. He possessed a disarming smile and a captivating smirk. He was clothed with armor of languid expressions, a pistol of a smile, a helmet of pride and a bow and arrow of quick-tongued wit. Dominating and learned, Pedro was a natural leader.

He was every bit a man. Aldonza traced a lazy finger across his bicep, tight caramel skin stretched across the muscle. Her eyes licked his chest and abdominals, noticing the tiny, reddened scratches, the distinctive pattern of freckles that lined his left side in random splotches, the valleys and mountains that each individual ab created. She raised her line of vision to his face, and smiled softly at him as he closed his mouth, turned slightly towards her. His grown black longs fell over his eyes until strands were kissing his nose. Aldonza took a weighted minute to memorize his lips, the pink wonders; the bottom was slightly larger than its top counterpart, and stuck out like a dirty pout as he slept through the restless evening. Bringing her hand up to his neck, she pulled herself closer until she was yet again pressed up against him. Still she wondered why, why God had been so lenient with her after years of turmoil and treachery. Would it last? Or was this all a cruel dream? Would the pounding of the innkeeper's fist wake her from this luxurious dream with a cry of morning? Would the cock crow at the crack of dawn, signaling her to start the day's chores? If she were to pinch herself right now, would she wake up, truly arise from her corpse-like existence in this remarkable heaven, to face reality?

She sighed sleepily and internally shrugged, reasoning that if this was indeed doomed to end, she would enjoy it while she could, soak up the love that was being freely given regardless of if she was accepting. Nuzzling her neck into the crook of Pedro's, Aldonza returned to a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Aye, mi amigo, be quiet," A voice muttered harshly. "She's sleeping."

"Not what it sounded like last night," one of them murmured in a significantly lower tone. "She sounded pretty busy."

"Was she worth it?" Juan asked, eyeing him darkly, his figure wracked with jealousy.

Pedro gave him a snarling smile. "She was free, wasn't she?" Juan growled and made towards him, pressing himself to his hands and knees but was trapped by Paco, who was holding him down. "Not now." He told him firmly.

"No, but really," Anselmo asked with boyish curiosity, chalking his voice so that he sounded older, more mature. "How was it? Was it good? Was it like Juanita?"

"Or Roberta?" One called out.

"Or Alejandra?" A shutter ran through the men as they collectively thought about the awful experience that was Alejandra.

Pedro thought for a few moments, Aldonza gauged by the silence as she lay in the corner, silent and still. She imagined him biting his lower lip, brushing a strand of black hair behind his ear, his angled eyebrows acute with internal business. "She has tits, no? And curves? She's a woman, of course she's good." In her mind, he finished with a coy smile, his signature smirk that drove her mad.

A chorus of objections crescendo'ed through the group and a hiss of silence echoed in return. "She is very… willing." Pedro commented, his eyes glistening as he spoke. "Loud… Voluptuous… She's fiery and passionate. When you tear her down she allows it to happen; you're the bricklayer, laying brick after brick into her until you're complete, and she's a new creation, a new structure, a new home that has your heart rooted as the key."

A few moments passed as the men contemplated their leader's response. Anselmo's face was lit by an internal wonder of unclean thoughts and boyish desire. A few chuckles circled the men as some thought about it; others sternly sat in thought of when their own desires could be fulfilled, and by whom.

"Well, amigo, it seems you've had your moment. It's well-known that a whore can't settle for just one man—why would she choose to be a whore in the first place?" A round of raucous mirth spread through the men, their faces lighting up with rosy cheeks at a possible opportunity for them to experience this apparent fire. "So who gets her tonight?"

Aldonza's hazy face suddenly turned stony at these words. Who gets me tonight? She thought coldly, selfishly. She wanted to be with no one but Pedro. Sure, she had been with many men before, friends, even brothers, but no one had ever had such a profound effect on her as Pedro. The others beat her like livestock, using their hands and bodies to punish her instead of pleasure her. They were butchers, cut with clear intentions on what they were using her—the animal—for, while Pedro—Pedro was like the butcher's son, who had the audacity to question what he was actually going to do to the animal. Was he really going to end it—or spare it, allowing it to survive, even live?

"Oooh, ooh, me!" Anselmo cried out in a high-pitched voice.

"No, no, you're last on the totem pole." Paco told him, punching his shoulder. "You know how it goes—just because you're the leader's brother doesn't give you any special privileges."

"What about me, huh?" Juan mentioned in a gruff voice. "I was supposed to have her first, until someone decided that she was his for the taking—"

"You were also the one that forced yourself onto her." Anselmo pointed out, squaring his shoulders as he fought to appear physically tougher, older.

"What do you want to do, niño?" Juan asked him mockingly. "Run to your hermano and tattle?"

The other muleteers cackled and guffawed, joining in on the pleas and requests for the woman. "Enough!" Pedro exclaimed, silencing the men as he stood up, his dark figure looming over them. "We already set up another time for this evening." He told the group as Aldonza raised her eyebrows, unaware of this apparent meeting though understanding his tactic of lying. Was he trying to protect her, or merely save her for himself? Aldonza struggled awake, groaning loudly and kicking hay so that the men knew she was awake.

"Looks like the whore has a heart," Paco muttered, flexing his muscles as he punched a fist into his hand.

"Hearts can be broken, mi ago." Juan told him, shooting a hate-filled glare at Pedro.

"Aye, believe it or not I do." Aldonza grumbled as she stood, wrapping a ratted blanket around her otherwise exposed form. She met Pedro's eyes with a no nonsense front, though internally she winked upon seeing him. She teetered towards the door and cracked it open; rays of intense sunshine flooded into the stable, temporally blinding herself and the men. "Too bad none of you will ever be able to have it." She turned her back to them and dropped the towel, her naked ass shaking with seductive steps as she retreated to the inn.

"It takes one to know one!" Anselmo cried out as an afterthought, though Aldonza was not thinking of him. She was only thinking of one person, the one that consumed her with an internal flame that licked her insides and filled her thoughts.

Wrapping the blanket around her once more, she retreated to her room and changed for the new day, wiping away the smeared blood with rough scrubs and hiding the bruises that littered her neck, arms, chest, stomach, to the best of her ability. She hummed a little tune as she fulfilled her morning chores, surprising the innkeeper as she approached him for her in-town assignment.

"Someone's merry." He commented roughly, eyeing her with cocked curiosity. Nevertheless he gave it little thought, instead focusing on handing her a piece of tattered parchment. "Just the necessities, business has—"

"Been low, aye, it's the same every month." Aldonza finished, nodding as she tucked it into her shirt.

"Have you been trying?" Fernando asked her, scanning her over from head to toe. "There are lots of men this time."

Aldonza set her jaw, her brow following automatically. "I'll see what I can do." She replied quietly, turning to leave.

"Aldonza?" She had reached the door frame and stopped upon hearing her name. "Remember what your purpose is, your fate." Fernando told her with a sad undertone.

"Si, senor." She replied, and quickly attired herself with her basket, rebozo and dwindling money pouch. The muleteers were now returning to the courtyard and eyed her wistfully, some touching her as they passed others murmuring to her, making offers of love and money and sex. "He can't be that good," One of them told her seriously. "Once you have your turn with me, you'll never go back to that sad excuse of a man ever again."

"Aye, senorita, you don't want them old and worn out, you want them young, full of energy." Anselmo smiled at her; it was Pedro's smile, though the eyes were wrong.

"I want to see you writhing underneath me," Juan murmured to her as he passed, eyeing her like a piece of meat.

Aldonza dismissed their advances with a hefty sigh before mounting her burro and heading off for the hills that would lead her to the nearest village. "Aye, mi gato!" A voice called out. Aldonza stopped the burro and turned around, a similar smirk rearranging her features as Pedro ran towards her.

"And what do you want?" She asked him with a cocked eyebrow. He swallowed as he looked up at her and fixated his own, characteristic smirk. "Right now or tonight?"

"Aye, yes, the inevitable tonight." Aldonza replied, her tone loaded with snark. "I heard that was going to happen."

"You… You what?" Pedro questioned seriously.

"Si, you and your men, in the stable. I heard what you said to them, and I heard that you told them that I cannot service them because you had already paid me. But, alas—" she waved her nearly empty money bag at him. "No payment. You know I have a strict policy on payment."

Pedro tipped back his head and laughed—physically laughed—with his entire body. He was shaking, convulsing as the rough, low register of laughter pierced the air with annoying contagiousness. "And what's so funny?" She asked him, her lips forming a straight line across her face. "Why do you laugh?"

"It's just—" Pedro began, doubling over with intense laughter. "You're so serious!"

Aldonza frowned and squeezed the donkey's sides, forcing it to move her away from this mocking man. "No, wait!" He cried out, shuffling towards her.

"And why can't I be serious?" She questioned harshly. "Is it because of what I am?"

"What you are—what do you mean?" Pedro asked.

"Oh, you know."

"No, mi gato, I—"Pedro thought about it, kicking his toe in the dirt as he glanced up at her through muddy eyelashes. "May I join you?" Aldonza said nothing, though felt him mount the burro behind her. Together, the two created a damned, satirical version of Mary and Joseph. They rode together, Pedro's hands grasping Aldonza's waist as they made it into town, passing through aisles between makeshift storefronts, fields, playing children. "I do want another night with you," Pedro told her as they dismounted the animal, tying it lazily to a post and shuffling in between stores. "I just didn't get a chance to last night due to the… um, circumstances."

Aldonza nodded, straightening herself up as she thought about this. "Fine," she told him, haggling with a woman to lower her price on maize. "You can have your night. You can have your fun, your feelings, your bitch to slam into." She turned swiftly towards him and pierced his face with a pointed glare. "But you do not have the right to say who I sleep with and who I don't."

Pedro returned the glare with an annoyingly handsome smirk. "The kitty cat is fierce today," he murmured to her, laughing with amused frustration as she huffed away from him. "Fine, fine, I just thought that, perhaps, I was something special to you."

"Special?" Aldonza questioned, buying a chicken from a man and watching with grim normality as they cut its head off and butchered it. "You're drunk."

"You're beautiful."

"You're good at making love!" Aldonza spat, watching as his eyes softened slightly from the verbal blow.

"You seemed pretty into it," Pedro reminded her, stroking her arm with the tip of his finger. "As I recall, someone asked for more."

Aldonza blushed, unable to refuse the truth or camouflage her feelings. "You have to understand, mi gato, I—I have to act different towards the men than I do to you. What you heard me say was partially true. But I don't want to give you to them, I don't want them to experience you because I want to be the one who forces you to cry out into the night, the one that you choose, the one that you want."

Aldonza paid for the poultry with a firm hand while her stomach twisted with somersaults. "How do you know what I want?" She quietly asked him as he returned from making his own purchases of rope, scrap metal, a new pair of cowhide boots. She spoke softly, purposefully, so that he would have to stoop down, lean into her, to hear.

"It's a feeling," he told her in the same tone. "Haven't you had it before? A hunch?"

The young woman thought about this as she silently finished her purchases, carrying them back and securing them to the ragged saddle bag. She simply couldn't admit to herself that this man made her happy because he drove her wild. Yet, his craziness, in some strange universe that she was experiencing, was her happiness. He was her ultimate happiness. She couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't physically tune her mind to another station. Everything reminded her of him, a constant cue that he was the script to her very soul. "It's called love." he prompted as he mounted the burro and reached his hand to her. Aldonza grabbed it with a grimace and heaved herself onto the animal, gripping his waist as he gripped the reigns. "And it's not a sin."

"And if it were?" She replied casually.

Pedro chuckled. "Ahh, well then what would be new to you?" Aldonza smacked his shoulder, though softly at the personal crack. "Ahh, lo siento, I'm teasing."

"Well, even if you weren't," She mumbled. "it would still be true. Pedro," she asked after a while. "Where are we going?" They were not on the proper trail home, but rather careening down a steep hill.

"Ahh, you'll see." He told her. Soon they were approaching a lake, its surface clear and seemingly steaming through the thick, mysterious waves of visible heat. It was pushing late afternoon, the peak of the heat. Climbing off the burro, Pedro extended a hand to Aldonza, who clamored off without accepting his offer.

"Why did you bring me to a lake?" She asked less than gracefully.

Pedro smirked as he untied his shirt and pulled it from his sculpted chest. "Aye, mi gato," he explained, pleased that her eyes were moving down his now exposed torso. "I thought you might like to take a bath."

"A bath." Aldonza repeated, glancing down at her dirtied arms, tattered skirts and tangled hair. "I—you think I'm dirty?"

"I think you're busy," he told her, grabbing her hands and leading her to the mouth of the water. "And a beautiful woman needs time to take care of herself." He dipped a toe in before removing it, hands sliding against her shirt as he pushed it to the side, exposing a bare shoulder. Leaning down, he placed a single kiss on it. Aldonza marveled the feeling and instinctually leaned into him, pressing her fingers firmly into his back.

"Okay." She whispered as he removed his hands only to place them on the hem of her shirt, lifting it up so that her bare torso shone against the bright light.

"Beautiful," he murmured, meeting her eyes with an awed smile. He removed his filthy trousers before walking into the water, waiting until he was half submerged to sink and swim a few strokes. Rising, he called out, "Coming, mi gato?"

Aldonza didn't hesitate, and soon was dipping her naked body into the warm water, meeting the strong arms of Pedro. He pulled her against his torso, unleashing a full, bright smile. "Wash up." He told her. Complying, Aldonza submerged her head into the clear water, rising with a flip of her long black locks. Pedro was behind her, running his fingers through it; each time his fingers would catch in a tangle, he would, with careful ease, work the knots until freed hair was running through his fingers. He hummed softly while doing this, a light tenor tune that rose and fell as the day around them transformed into a lavender and orange dusk. Soon her hair was completely smooth, and she turned around to face him. His eyes spoke with a dazzling sparkle accented by a toothy smile. Sure of her actions, who had an agenda of their own, Aldonza reached her hands from the water and cupped his strong, scruffy face, bringing it down to hers and kissing him with a loud, energetic passion. Her lips parted, searching for his as their tongues danced together, their bodies pressing closer together, their foreheads resting upon one another's as they stared into each other's eyes. His eyes widened when she pulled away, and she nodded, her cheek smearing against his as she whispered in his ear, "I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

"Aldonza, it's the fourth time this week that I've asked, practically begged, and yet I've received nothing!" Fernando cried, wiping a dirty hand across his furrowed forehead. "They're not honest men."

"What's new?" She replied darkly, scrubbing from a chipped bowl the remains from the previous evening's supper. "Have we ever had truly honest men here?" Even Pedro, who she considered a gentlemen when compared to his broodish friends, had been acting disrespectfully, eating more than twice his share at supper and failing to pay the innkeeper their agreed price for room and board and utilities. Aldonza had meant to talk to him about it during their private encounters, though something had always gotten in the way.

"We've made enough to get by before." The innkeeper replied defensively as he recounted the wimpy stack of bills and added the coins. "They need to pay up or get out." Aldonza nodded responsively as she tended to the dishes, the mugs, the souring milk and aging wine. "Have you been trying harder, hija?" He asked her gruffly, fixing an exasperated stare at her.

"I, well… Pedro paid me once."

"Once." The innkeeper repeated, his gaze intensifying, the wheels and cogs in his brain turning, processing. "Aye, but, and correct me if I'm wrong—I've been under the impression that you have been seeing him frequently, even regularly."

It wasn't a question, and as Aldonza prepared a defense, the innkeeper continued. "Just because a man with nice hair and built form comes in and seeks a fancy in you, my dear, does not mean he loves you."

"But I—" Aldonza began.

"But you love him, don't you?" Fernando clucked his tongue with a roll of his eyes. "Ahh, mi hija, it's not love. You're too—"

"Too what?" Aldonza asked, her reproachful voice dripping with venom. "Too young? I'm twenty-three years old! Am I too inexperienced?" She tipped her head back and cackled, throwing a bowl she was currently washing to the floor with a sturdy clank. "Do you know how many men I've been forced to sleep with, to pleasure? You're quick to take the money and not even think about the consequences, the heartache, the wear and tear it causes Aldonza, because she's dispensable. 'They're all the same!' they say, you know they do! Well then why does Pedro keep coming back to me, huh? Why does he tell me I'm special, I'm his amor? It can't be love, because Aldonza's head is too full of shit for that, is that right, Fernando? Is that what you're getting at?"

"Aldonza, I—"The withered man spoke with measured voice. "I didn't mean to make you so upset. You know I care about you, my daughter."

The young woman inhaled deeply and spat on the floor, her lip coiled back, near the toe of his boots. "You can't even say you love me." She snarled in an irritable, quiet voice. "I get it. I probably wouldn't be able to understand it anyways." Aldonza threw the rag harshly into the sink, murky, soapy water spilling out over the sides of the basin as she marched with heavy steps through the depths of the inn.

Throwing open the heavy wooden doors to the opposing courtyard, Aldonza pushed through them and into the blinding light of day. Dark clouds were covering the sky like a permanent shade, copying her emotions by drowning its captives with a cool breeze, the smell of imminent rain. Perhaps she was reacting so harshly to Fernando's question because she knew, in the corner of her heated heart, that is fatherly wisdom was correct. Perhaps Pedro was only using her to fulfil his manly needs, ones that had probably been denied since their last encounter at a shady inn. She was the only one with tits walking around this joint; was she merely a pawn used in his tricky game? Were his words only decoys that would be destroyed once he had had enough of her and was time to leave, move on to the next town, the next inn, the next woman who was forced to sell herself because of the conditions she had been molded into? Aldonza shook her head, as if trying to physically rid herself of the contradicting thoughts, and entered the inn once more. Trudging through the halls, she wound her way through the maze until she had reached the darkened servants' quarters, the internal kitchen of sorts where she prepared the meat, butchered the pigs. "Aldonza?" A voice called from the far end of the kitchen. "Is that you, mi gato?" Aldonza peered into the darkness until a firm pair of arms gripped her shoulders, causing her to startle with a piercing scream. "Shh, shh, it's just me." Pedro told her, cooed. He lit a candle and placed it on the counter, but Aldonza was already moving towards him, closing the gap between their bodies.

"Tell me you love me and mean it, you bastard." Aldonza sneered with an unforgiving attitude that seemed to control her pinching fingers, her firm grips, her searching lips.

"What has come over you?" Pedro asked with a confused tone; nevertheless he gripped her hips, replied to her fierce kisses, yanked softly on her hair. He tried to pick her up and place her on the table, though she pushed flat palms against his chest, forcing him back into the counter.

"My turn." She told him, nibbling on his ear as her hands searched for the hem of his tattered camisa. She moved her lips to his, moving them with aggressive smacks, her razor-like teeth grazing his tongue, teeth, chin. Her mouth never lost contact with his as she removed his shirt, relishing the sight and feeling of his bare torso against hers. "Table. Now." She murmured with control, tangling her legs in his until he tripped back onto the hard, wooden surface. Untying his trousers, she unleashed his crotch from her prying fingers until she was sinking down, shifting her hips and sporadically rotating, tilting, gyrating, shaking with pleasure and nods and affirmations, cries of, "Oh yes" and "More, more more," "Harder" and "Right there, yes" and "Almost there" until they cresecdo'ed into a final cry, a fleshy smack of wet hips and tangled, sweaty limbs.

Aldonza rested her head against Pedro's chest as his hand absentmindedly played with her curls, tickled a pattern down her left arm. "That was a surprise." He mumbled as his other hand wrapped around her stomach, moving higher to affectionately cup her breast, her womanly curves.

The young woman chuckled roughly, placing a single kiss on his chest. "Fernando was trying to tell me that I didn't love you."

Pedro remained silent for a few heavy seconds. "And do you?" He asked calmly, an internal snarl transforming his solid insides into mush.

Aldonza turned her mocha eyes on him, narrowing them into slits. "Is everyone going to question my feelings? She asked roughly, turning away from him as she released a contained, breathy sigh.

"I of course know you do!" He replied speedily. "I was just trying to get you to understand how Fernando must be thinking."

"Fernando." Aldonza spat the name, as if it gave her a nasty flavor in her mouth. "He doesn't know what he's talking about." Pedro pulled her closer to him, littering her sweaty forehead with sweet kisses. "Mi gato," He crooned softly, tenderly. "I've never felt this way about any other woman before; for that you only have my word, but I hope, I pray that it is enough for you." She nodded against his relaxed form and sighed, snuggling into his fleshy side. "I've been meaning to ask you," he whispered to her. "How did you end up here? What of su madre, y padre?" He asked her, slipping a strand of wild hair behind her ear.

Aldonza smiled to herself the tiniest of grins at the realization that she was about to share knowledge to someone that she had never had the opportunity to share before. Someone was actually asking about her, why she existed, the reasoning behind why she was here and why they were so lucky to be with her, experience her, love her. "I was destined to the same fate as my mother." Aldonza began in a crumbled whisper. "My father was a regiment in the local battalion; I never had the pleasure to meet either of them, as they left me for dead when I was born. Conceived out of drunken consent, never wanted, never nurtured. I'm surprised I didn't die right then and there," She told him sadly.

"I never knew my real name. I used to imagine it was Felicia, or Maria. I went by that for a few years as I trudged through the streets, begging for food and finding condolence and charity in local churches. That was when my destiny first began to ring true. The Padre in la ciudad de La Mancha was my first time. I had wandered into the church in the late evening, that moment when dusk turns to darkness and the locusts hum through the humid night? Yes, that was it. He offered me bread, and a strange, dark liquid. It was wine, and I was fifteen. He prayed with me, told me he could help me on the road to righteousness. Well, self-righteous, maybe. He took me right there, underneath the crucifixion and near the altar and went to work with his pruning shears, ripping my virginal flower from my body and setting a precedent for future men. It was only when I got my head about me that I would realize they were customers.

"Anyways, la policía found us, and he testified that I had threatened his mortality if he refused my offer of sex. They actually applauded his bravery, the sons of bitches! I was forced to the court and was somehow found innocent. I vowed never to return to the hell hole of La Mancha and wandered south, to El Tobozo. I found comfort and solace in Fernando, and he offered me a roof and food. Who was I to refuse the nicest man I had met in my life? Eventually he supplied me a wage, and I began to sell myself to help out with extra costs. I started going by Aldonza, liking the ring it had when men would catcall, request. It made me feel wanted, you know? Desired. Not left like my parents, but physically, emotionally needed, almost. And the rest you know, mi amor."

Pedro listened and nodded as she finished her story, humming softly as he thought about the information he had just received. "Aldonza does have a good ring to it," He told her after a few minutes of processing. "Catchy, lyrical… Like a song." He began to sing to her softly, personally, like he was playing the harpsichord of her heartstrings.

"Pedro," Aldonza murmured, placing a hand on his lips to stop the impromptu song. "You haven't been playing fair and you know it."

"Of course I haven't," He replied good-naturedly. "I wouldn't have been able to claim stakes to you if I had."

"No, no, it's just that—Pedro, you promised him money, and it's been a couple of weeks, and—"

"And he wants what's rightfully his." He replied, nodding with a heavy sigh. "Si, si, it's only fair." He murmured, stroking her hair. "Is that why he was yelling at you, telling you that your love for me is nothing but a girlish fantasy?"

"I guess," Aldonza replied, not having already considered this. "I'm trying to help him out with extra money, but it doesn't help when the one who is always willing suddenly only wants one." She looked up into his olive eyes, appreciating their honesty and lack of gloating smirk.

A few hours passed as the lovers drifted into an eventful sleep, teeming with dreams of what ifs, whens, and hows. Aldonza awoke alone, her clothes acting as a makeshift blanket and a tiny leather pouch sitting next to her. A note was attached to it, reading, "Tell Fernando I am sorry for being so late. Better late than never, no? The extra is for my time with you—tell him that, mi gato, so he knows you are following through. Tonight, mi amor? Or did you wear yourself out? –P" She fingered through the pouch thankfully and dressed, returning to the kitchen to prepare supper.

"So I suggest that you go through the back entrance, that is where he never is. Go in, take the money, and get out. It's that simple, Paco, and no one will be the wiser."

"What happens after we get the money?" Paco asked skeptically, flexing his muscles as he whittled the piece of wood in his hands to a sharpened point.

"We leave!" Juan exclaimed, meeting the eyes of his comrades across the burning fire where they were gathered with excited mirth. "We get out of this hell hole, ditch the old man's fields and start living life with our riches. Just think—" He dreamed aloud, moving his hands in the air as if setting the stage. "Us, men of high regard, teeming with men and all the women we can seduce. Macho, rugged, simply irresistible."

"Really?" Anselmo questioned with boyish glee, his mouth hanging open with excitement at the prospects he was hearing.

"Si, amigo." Juan continued. "Pedro, what do you say?"

Pedro looked up at his comrades from his mug. "Why don't we stay a little longer?" He suggested, broadening his shoulders as he spoke. "We made a promise to the old man, the least we can do is fulfill it until we're done and can leave."

Anselmo began to giggle, and slowly it spread around the circle, catching with the intensity of the fire around them. "What?" Pedro questioned defensively. "What is it?"

"You just want to stay because you're in love!" Anselmo exaggerated the last word in a lengthening, sing-songy voice. "Listen, guys, he's in love with a filthy whore!" The group guffawed at this statement, citing it as the downfall of their leader, the dramatic irony, that a man as tough and domineering as Pedro should be overtaken, captured and held for ransom by the whims and desires of a common kitchen slut.

"Do you care about her?" Paco asked with a satirical smirk.

"Can you do nothing but think about her, day after day, night after night?" Juan asked. "Or are you too busy with her at the night to think about your friends, the love-starved men you call your comrades and choose to travel with?"

"Some leader!" Paco cried out.

"Some man!" Juan replied with a dark cackle.

"I do love her!" Pedro cried out fiercely, silencing the men with his harsh, terrifying tone. "But I know the original intent we had when coming here, and I plan on keeping it. But we can't act all at once—how would that look, huh? You're lucky to have me here, otherwise our cover would have been blown. You stupid animals, you want to act quickly because you are enamored by the idea of riches. You've got to wait it out, make it appear like you care, and then chop the umbilical cord, deceiving the ones on whose teat you nourished yourself.

"In the next week and a half, we will act. Until then, we work hard, long hours. If you're lucky, I may even let you have a piece of my woman. She's good, she's rough—and she'll give you the ride of your life if she thinks I gave you my blessing. That's how stupid the bitch is."

At these words Aldonza froze, her body tensing against the adobe wall, her hiding place where she had been eavesdropping. Had she really just heard those words come from the one she loved, the one she cherished, the one she had been stupid enough to trust?

"Ahh, so you can control her?" Juan exclaimed, eyebrows raising with filthy ideas. "Can I get your blessing?"

"No, me, hermano!" Anselmo cried out with anxious excitement. "It's my birthday this Sunday, let me have her for my present!"

She felt rain streak down her face, and only then realized that she had been crying, salty tears leaking into her mouth, across the bridge of her nose, the dimple in her chin. She couldn't take it anymore, these words, these lies, these walls that were crumbling around her heart, around the sneaking suspicions she had tried to restrain, hide. Actual rain began to fall from the heavy clouds as she ran into the night and away from the scene, bare feet tripping over sticks and dirt and rocks until it was down pouring, granting the plains of España much-needed rain. Staring up at the sky, she tilted her head back, exposing her neck, her arms, her legs, her entire being to the forceful rain, which stung her tan skin and filled her insides with a type of pleasurable, angled pain. She deserved this. She had been played, and the worst part was that she hadn't even realized it until now, when it was too late, too fatal. Maybe Pedro was right. Maybe she was a stupid bitch. Fernando had been wrong—she did love him—currently loved him. She had gave her whole self to him, which is why now, when it was being torn out, mangled, torn in half and ripped to pieces, the pain was excruciatingly numbing, painful, and excruciatingly, undeniably, real.


	7. Chapter 7

"Aldonza? Tonight?"

"Sure," The young woman replied in a careless voice as she passed, barely glancing at who was asking for her services, her attention, her love. "Ten pesos or nothing, take it or leave it."

She hurried into the kitchen and heard the cries of the men, exclaiming the amount she requested in outbursts of outrage. "She's gone up in price!" Pedro told the group with a strange, proud tone.

"Si, amigo, it's because she wants better than you. She's smart to pay for the best." Juan told him, chugging the rest of his wine as he clamored for more.

"Or it could be because she simply wants more money." The innkeeper exclaimed roughly, walking around the table with his hand stretched out. "Pay up, boys."

"Or what?" Paco asked sternly, removing himself from the table and standing in front of Fernando with an intimidating air. He was a good two feet taller than him, his shadow casting a dark, bulky shadow that loomed over his comparatively puny form.

"Or I'm going to have to ask your disrespectful asses to get the hell out of my inn." Fernando replied with a voice more courageous than he felt. Juan slunk behind the old man, and he and Paco sauntered around him, like a cat cornering a blasted rat. Pulling a knife, Juan used the blade to pick at his fingernails, eyeing him menacingly as he shuffled to the side.

"It'd be a shame for this to—Oh, I don't know—just end up in your side, wouldn't it old man?" Juan asked murderously, temptation dripping like saliva from his lucrative tone.

"Boys, boys, we don't need to resort to violence." Anselmo called out in a timid voice.

"Boys maybe don't need to," Paco grumbled, closing in on the rickety innkeeper. "But men? Ahh, little one, once you become one you will understand that men need to use violence to solve problems that simply _won't go away_." He nodded to Juan, who tucked his elbow into his side, preparing to lunge the angled blade into his side.

Pedro lept from the table and pushed the innkeeper out of the way, piercing the air with a treacherous yowl as the blade sunk into his abdomen. "Sons of filthy whores!" He cried into the afternoon sun as his crumpled body fell to the hard, dusty ground. His hand flew protectively around his abdomen as he struggled to retrieve the knife.

"Aldonza!" The innkeeper cried out, scrambling from the scene and into the inn. "Aldonza, hurry, come quick! Esta su novio, he is wounded! Fetch bandages, hasta pronto!"

Aldonza scrambled to the doorframe. Upon seeing Pedro's furrowed figure on the ground, she gripped onto the wooden frame for support before staggering over to her. She grabbed a roughly-carved blade from the depths of her skirts and raised it above her head, glaring at the surrounding muleteers. "Which one of you did this to him?" She cried in a terrifying growl; it was low in intensity so that you were sickly drawn to it, like eyes to a mangled car accident, a gruesome death. There was no sound except the shuffling of boots, the clearing of embarrassed throats, silent challenges of who dared to speak first. "Which one of you?" She screamed hoarsely, dropping to her knees and removing Pedro's bloodied shirt. He winced at the movement yet looked up at her appreciatively, lovingly.

"This is going to hurt." She told him as she brushed hair out of his face, tenderly brushing his cheek as she spoke in a gentle whisper.

"It's just a scratch, mi gato." He mumbled, his eyes becoming heavy, lidded. With strong hands, Aldonza gripped the handle of the blade and, on the count of three, heaved, removing it roughly from his abdomen with a grunt of pain from both parties. Tossing it to the ground with a tired clank, she began to rip makeshift bandages from her skirt.

"Somebody fetch water." She ordered, turning her attention to the muleteers. "The others, go to the kitchen and fetch some wine, another, fresh bandages. Fernando will know where they are. Anselmo—stay with me to help your brother." The muleteers stared at her, unsure of whether to leave their accidentally-wounded friend or to follow the kitchen slut's orders. "Now!" She repeated fiercely, watching the men scramble under the intensity of her harsh words. "Now, Pedro," she cooed, gently blotting the wound with the hem of her skirt. "This isn't going to feel great. But I will take care of it… of you." She nodded, saying the words more to herself than to him. He groaned with the added pressure and clenched his fists; a heated sweat had broken across his forehead, and his lips were roughly chapped. "How did this happen?" She asked Anselmo, who was lifting his brother's shoulders and resting them on his knees, elevating his head, neck, torso.

"Fernando had asked us for money we apparently owed him." Anselmo told her in a semi-hysterical voice. "I didn't know anything about it, Pedro told us he had taken care of it—"

"And I did—" Pedro objected, shifting to raise himself higher and emitting another intense groan.

"Shh." Aldonza instructed him, pushing him with light pressure back to the safety of his brother's knees.

"And then Paco and Juan started questioning, circling him like they were ready to pounce. Then suddenly Paco nodded and Juan went to stab Fernando in the back—"

"What?" Aldonza gasped, her heart sinking to her toes at this utterance. It confirmed the truth that the muleteers—or at least half of them—had intentions of staying only to take their money.

"Si, si!" Anselmo told her, his voice rising as he spoke. "But then Pedro jumps out of nowhere and pushes him out of the way, instead receiving a stab to the abdomen. The rest is history."

The muleteers arrived, Fernando trailing behind them with a basket. Paco sat the bucket of water next to his comrade as Juan dropped the wineskin and bandages. "Mi hija, I brought you thread to stitch him up." He set the wooden basket next to her and brought his rusty, guarded eyes to meet each pair of muleteer's. "As for me, I am going to prepare supper for our appreciative guests. Aldonza, join me as soon as he is dressed and bandaged."

As he hobbled to the inn, the muleteers shuffled anxiously until they mumbled various excuses, heading towards the stable or the rolling hills. "Do you need me, hermano?" Anselmo asked Pedro. "Or can I go tend to my burro?"

"Go, little one." Pedro told him, sliding onto the ground with a rough tumble as his brother's knees fell from underneath him. "I think Aldonza has it covered." As Anselmo ran to catch up with the others, Pedro hummed with the flies, the softly wailing wind. Aldonza leaned over him, carefully scraping the wound with the edge of her crude rag. Her fingers lifted the peels of skin, digging through the exposed muscle and flesh to remove lodged rocks, pointy sticks. She began to wrap a bandage around his middle as he sputtered with a weak laugh.

"They call it backstabbing," he told her, his eyes closing from the intense pain, "when people go against you. But this—this wasn't in the back at all."

"It wasn't intended for you," Aldonza told him. She hummed a monotonous tone as she worked to secure the bandage, to thread a needle. "Of course it wouldn't be backstabbing. Why would the muleteers go against their fearless Pedro?"

"It was." Pedro replied with a wretched undertone. "I've seen it coming for a while."

"I—what?" Aldonza muttered surprisingly. "What do you mean?"

"The men," He told her, gritting his teeth as her needle pierced his skin, began to tighten it with a rugged line of dirty stitches. "They've been trying to organize a coup against me for ages. Do you think Juan is the only black sheep?"

Aldonza thought about this as she worked, attempting to comprehend the complicated, hierarchy-esque system. "It was originally the three of us," he told her as she finished, knotting the thread and helping him into a clean shirt. "My brother and I and Juan. We grew up together, we played, we went to school, we got into mischief. When we were old enough, Juan's father commissioned us to tend the fields, build houses, wrangle the livestock. That's how we met Paco," he explained. "Juan and I had always been good friends, mejores amigos, even." He scoffed sourly as he recalled, "But when Paco came, he started drifting from me. Mejores amigos my ass. Suddenly everything was my fault. But Juan had an even rougher relationship with his father than with me. One day his father was inspecting the corral we had built for the horses. Admittedly, it was a poor job, suitable for no animal. He told us this, Juan's father, and Juan—he just exploded, told his father that he was a useless piece of shit. The next morning we left, destined for adventure in new places that were as far away from Juan's father—or anything that reminded him from home—as possible. Originally, until we arrived in El Tobozo, really, Paco has been on what you would consider 'my side,' but now, I just don't know. He and Juan have been secretive, plotting. They are just in it for the women, the money, and they'll take it and not care about who they hurt, who they kill.

"They're going to try something worse." He told her sadly, grabbing her wrist as he spoke with intensity. "I don't know what, or when, but they're going to have fatal intentions the next time—intentions to kill."

Aldonza removed her wrist with the twist of her own, helping him gingerly up until he was limping towards the inn, one arm wrapped around her shoulder so that his weight was almost overtaking her, forcing her to make sweet love to the earth. She helped her to her room and lowered him onto her cot, tucking the blankets around his bulky, injured form. "You're deceiving yourself if you think you've fooled me." She whispered roughly in his ear.

He stared up at her as she turned to leave. "What do you mean?" He asked seriously.

"I wouldn't know, Pedro." She told him with mock sadness that was camouflaging her anger. "I'm just a stupid, disposable bitch."

"Oh, Aldonza, wait—" Pedro cried out as she opened the door and slammed it behind her. "You don't understand!"

"Like hell I don't!" She cried behind her, marching through the kitchen to continue her afternoon chores. She knew exactly what he was planning and who he was, who she was in this strangled situation. And she knew damn well how to stop herself—or her makeshift family—from getting injured in the process.

Fernando and Aldonza maneuvered around the kitchen, stirring a pot of beans, tending to the fire on which a spit of meat was rotating, retrieving bowls and rough silverware from lower cupboards. "Those filthy men." Aldonza murmured to him, stirring the rice with more force than necessary.

"I've told you, mi hija, they're not respectable people." Fernando sighed. "I can't wait until they leave, actually. They've not only ran us out of house and home, they've put us farther into debt than we can actually afford. Their work in the fields is alright at best. They're lude, disgusting scum of the earth." He shook his head sadly as he worked on flatting tortillas with his withered fingers.

Aldonza couldn't help but notice the dejected look on his face. It pulled at her heart strings and caused her to bring a reassuring hand to his shoulder. "It will all work out, papa." She sighed. "I told one that I am available tonight, and I can always ask Pedro. I'll work on the other ones, I can go into town, more, I can—"

"No." Fernando interrupted with an aggressive voice. "Aldonza, you can't." He told her firmly.

The young woman scoffed and glared at her hands as she peeled peppers and fruit. "And why is that?" She asked stubbornly, not unlike an adolescent girl. "You were the one asking me, practically begging me, to force myself on them. Now you suddenly don't want me to? It's my body."

"Hija, por favor." He said in a shrunken voice. "I know it's your body. I know it's your life. I do not want you putting yourself in danger for me." He forced her eyes to meet his by staring intently at her. "These men are capable of dangerous things, Aldonza." He told her, peering through the open window as the men sat around a blazing fire, some shooting horseshoes, others whittling wood. "I experienced that first hand today, and I don't want you in the middle of it."

Aldonza laughed softly, shaking her head. "Don't you understand who I've been with?" She asked him with rough sarcasm. "My whole life I've been around dangerous men, men who have actually tried to kill me. Yes, yes, I've had blades pointed at my back, ropes tightened around my neck, angry fists against my chest and stomach and head. I'm still here, aren't I?" She asked with a raging, shaky tone. "I can damn well take care of myself. I'm sorry you were put in danger today, but let me take my risks."

Fernando was silent for many moments, the only sound filling the air the chopping of vegetables, the stirring of soup, the crackling of the fire. "You're lucky that Pedro was there," Aldonza murmured darkly.

"Si, that was very brave of him." He replied. "You should be proud. If he will do that for me, he'll surely do that for you."

Aldonza nodded as she set the table, filled mugs with ale and wine and water, brought the food out for a supper under the stars. She had been lucky to have Pedro. Pedro was the past. He was no longer vital, despite how her heart and mind and soul told her different. He had saved her from many things, her heart told her with a surge of tingly feelings, of remorse, of desire. Yes, but he betrayed you, her head told her logically. You heard him yourself. He said you were nothing but a stupid bitch, a pair of open legs for the sharing. You heard him say that they were going to be here for one reason and one reason only, and that's not you, honey—it's money.

She grimaced through supper as Juan made eyes at her across the table, nudging her leg with the toe of his leather boot. Aldonza pushed his foot roughly from hers and stood to collect dishes and tend to calls for more drink, though was trapped his strong, lean arms. "Ten pesos seems like a little much, don't you think?" He asked her, his lips pressed against her ear.

"Attempting to stab an old man seems a little harsh, don't you think?" She replied, trying to shove her way from his grip.

"Oh, you'll never learn." He sighed roughly against her ear, trailing sloppy kisses down her neck. Pedro glanced up at Aldonza and fixed a deadly glare on Pedro. "I like to do things the easy way. That's why you're coming with me tonight."

"Ten pesos or nothing." Aldonza spat vehemently.

"Fine." He told her, his hands traveling down her waist until they were cupped around her ass. "Ten pesos it is, greedy bitch. Eleven o'clock in the western stable. Don't be late." He pushed her away from him and shoved his mug into her chest. "More wine, whore."

She turned and hurried into the kitchen, casting her eyes like rain towards the muddied earth. She filled the evening with dishes and chores and cleaning until she was painting on her face and trudging with dread to the west stable. The full moon lit the sky with its other worldly glow as Aldonza crept to the stable, her airy robozo transforming her womanly curves into the ones of a spirit that roamed the plains of El Tobozo. She nudged the door of the southern stable open with her knee. Juan was situated on a roughly-weaved blanket on the stable floor, the same arrogant smirk arranged on his features. A few candles lit the room; it reeked of cow dung and sweat and what Aldonza imagined was humility. However, she was here for a reason, and so she straightened herself up, her shoulders going back as she pulled the robozo from her head, her midnight curls caressing her shoulders, framing her face and breasts. "I brought you something," she spat, chucking a container of wine dangerously close to his groan.

He caught it quickly and glanced up at her, shooting her a curious glare from underneath his long lashes. Juan twisted the cork out of the bottle and took a long drag from the bottle. He placed it roughly next to him and stood up, removing his shirt as Aldonza turned away from him, setting her solitary possessions in the corner. Suddenly, Juan's strong, lean arms were around her, underneath her shoulders as his hands cupped her breasts. He dragged her backwards and threw her to the ground. Her skirt came up from the momentum of the action and soon Juan was over her, knees firmly planted on either side of her thighs. Intrusive hands peeled her top from her sweaty figure, exposing the mounds of her breasts that his tongue and mouth soon found. Aldonza tilted her head back, exposing her neck as she consented; she internally groaned as Juan roughly pushed against her, bit down on patches of skin, pinched with fingers. "Make noises, bitch." Juan commanded. "Or no payment." He removed his tight trousers as Aldonza forcibly moaned, feeling not even a sliver of pleasure but actual pain as Juan quickly thrust forward, hips smacking into hers with a fleshy collision.

The next few moments were rushed, dominating, painful. Aldonza felt actual tears forming in her eyes with every thrust, every movement, every second that she was forced forward and backward under Juan's control, his rough movements. "Almost there." He panted noisily, bringing a new bout of pain to Aldonza as he sped up his hips and rotated, trying to find the perfect angle. She let out a high-pitched, uncontrollable squeal of discomfort. Juan brought back a hand and smacked her across the face, audibly cracking her neck as her nose and face were stabbed by needles of filth-ridden hay. His hands were constricting her throat as he rocked back and forth, back and forth, wanting more, more, more. Juan's eyes cringed closed as the stable door opened; an inquisitive He rode through an apparently intense orgasm as he let out a muffled cry of his own, slinking towards the ground as his grip on Aldonza's throat was released.

Scrambling backwards, Aldonza gathered her belongings and hurriedly put on the rest of her clothes, slinking silently to the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?" Juan asked, his naked body illuminated by the flickering sizzle of the candle.

"Oh, right." Aldonza stated, bolder than she felt. She crossed towards him with her hand outstretched. "As promised, my payment."

Juan fixed an alluring gaze on her rough visage. "Another round?" He asked hopefully.

"No." Aldonza replied with fierce finality, allowing a sliver of her humanity to show. "No, I mean, I can't. Not tonight." She rubbed her abdomen and back, trying to work the knots and pain that had formed from the recent sex, the scandalous abuse.

Digging through his trousers, Juan found a few gold pieces and shoved them roughly into her hand. "I'll be here all night," He told her, stroking his erect genitals.

"I'll keep that in mind." Aldonza told him, pushing her way through the door and into the cool, dark night, having no intentions of ever servicing Juan again. She traipsed through the dirty hay until she was in her own room. Pushing the door open softly, she startled upon seeing Pedro's muscular form outstretched on her bed.

"Hola, mi gato." He murmured from under his haze of sleep. "I—Fernando said I would be able to find you in here."

"How long have you—no, it's fine." She told him, watching as he struggled to get up. "No, stay, I—stay." She pushed a forceful hand on his chest and watched him land against the hay-filled mattress with a soft oof. She began to undress in the corner, pulling a sheet-like nightgown on before cuddling next to his healing body.

"Where have you been?" Pedro asked with no judgment in his voice. "I've been waiting for you."

Aldonza swallowed at these words and turned to press her forehead against the hollow of this throat, breathing in the thick scent of hay, spicy peppers, and something that was uniquely his own, simply Pedro Antonin. "I was with Juan."

Pedro scoffed, though hid it in his throat. "I see." He murmured.

"And it was awful," She choked out, biting her tongue to keep the tears from flowing foolishly from her runny eyes. "It was painful, it was too fast, too much." Pedro was silent and simply wrapped an arm around her, stroking through the see-through fabric with the rough pad of his thumb. "But it doesn't matter, I need to know something." She told him, rubbing her eyes against his shirt and sitting up so that she was bigger, domineering. "What do you plan to do to Fernando and I?"

"Do?" Pedro asked innocently, scrunching up his nose in confusion. "I don't understand."

Aldonza brought an impatient fist into the mattress. "I heard you say it, you liar!" She exclaimed vibrantly. "You were talking to your men, saying that you were going to stick to the original plan, that you can't blow your cover. You know what I'm talking about, don't play dumb with me!" She concluded. She was going to show him who had the power in this situation.

Pedro nodded slowly, rising on his elbows to meet her mocha eyes. "The original intent in coming here," He began slowly, "Was to come, work, and leave. We weren't going to pay, and we had even entertained the idea of stealing what we could. But—but, mi gato, that was before I met you, met Fernando, experienced his hospitality and your love, your amazing person… in a nutshell, you." Aldonza's expression shifted at these words, though she stabbed herself in the heart, telling herself to listen logically to what he was saying. He's just trying to win your trust! Her head screamed against the force of her desiring heart.

"The men, also, have been clamoring about wanting… well, what every man wants." He said, looking up at her through apologetic lashes. "So I told them they could have you, that I was no longer the sole one to experience your services. But it's not because I don't respect you—" He added quickly as she scoffed at him. "I—Aldonza, mi amor, you have to understand that I have to talk to them differently than you. They're rough, they don't understand what we have, they need to fight violence with violence."

Aldonza mulled this over, cocking a midnight eyebrow in the air. "And you really expect me to believe this?" She jeered with an incredulous tone.

"It's me and 'Selmo against Paco and Juan." He admitted to her, sinking onto the mattress once more. "We have to make it seem like they're in control." He sighed and ran a hand through his dark locks, shifting into a new position. "You have to believe me, Aldonza. I… I love you. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want them to hurt you, because if they hurt you—they would be hurting me."

"Show me." Aldonza murmured almost inaudibly.

"What was that?" Pedro questioned.

"Show me." She replied a little louder, reducing herself until she was pressed into the mattress next to him. "Show me how much you care."

Pedro moved quickly towards her, bringing a strong hand to her cheek and pulling her to him, his lips pressing against her with a fiery spark, a dancing passion. He sucked lightly on her lips and tangled his tongue in hers, emitting a sultry groan from the back of her throat. He broke away from her and rested his nose against hers. "Did it work?" He asked her, his tone matching the humidity of the evening.

Aldonza nodded, and knew in her heart that he was telling the truth. It truly was a split group of men—however, their adversity had inadvertently added a new member. It was now three to two—and Aldonza would do whatever it took to make sure her side won.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Aldonza asked him, breaking away for a gasp of air as he slowly maneuvered his legs over her slim torso.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life, mi gato." Pedro crooned. He muddied it with a grunt as he bent at the waist to kiss her lips, her face, the collar of her airy nightgown. His wound was still fresh, swollen, red skin puffing up around the dirty stitches. As he moved, the gnarled, black thread seemed to tear away from the flaps of skin, loosening themselves with little give. Pedro straightened so that he was sitting on Aldonza's lap, her knobby, exposed knees cushioning his buttocks as he slowly leaned back, his arms bringing her up to his exposed chest in a strange type of abdominal crunch.

His hands held onto her back protectively as the two kissed, breaking with soft, wet smacks that created a tune with the floating air of birds' songs that ascended through the open window. A sliver of sunlight slunk through the rough curtain, lighting the room with just enough of its orangey glow so that their silhouettes could be made out. They slowly tangled together and their kisses became faster, sloppier, their motions more intense and heated. "Be careful," Aldonza whispered as Pedro removed her nightgown, staring with concern at the stab wound on his abdomen.

"I'd be nothing but with something as precious as you." Pedro told her, winking before slowly bringing his hips forward and easing his way against her, within her, until they were one. Aldonza sighed with appreciation, her neck tipping back as Pedro rocked against her, gentle and soft and tender and so unlike the first time he had slept with her. The first time had been a blur, motivated by greed and domination and desires that kindled a devastating flame. This time, though—this time it was gentle, deliberate; every move was made with a sole intent, a purpose. It was sweet, calm, and even as they moved quicker, as desire overtook their figures, Pedro spoke gentle in her ear, cooing and kissing until they were sky high, touching heaven as one entity. Slowly they came down, a heap of woven arms and pure bliss. "Have I shown you how much I care?" He asked softly as he secured her against his side, her soft, heated breath ticking his bare chest, his peaked nipple.

"I've always known." Aldonza confessed, tangling her legs in his and tickling the back of them with her toes. "I had to convince my head that my heart—for once—was right."

"Ahh, the age old debacle," He sighed with reverence. "It's driven some to madness. I'm glad you weren't a victim of insanity." Pedro leaned down to place an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"So when are we going to act?" Aldonza questioned after a few solid moments of silence, of intertwining fingers, of gazes of love and adoration and pure desire.

As Pedro thought of this, an unrefined knock harped against the wooden door, shaking it from the forceful motion. It opened without warning as Aldonza squealed, pushing herself into Pedro's side. Fernando let out a surprised yell before stepping to the opposite side of the door. "My apologies, mi hija, Pedro. I didn't know—"

"Está bien." Pedro murmured as he picked up a rough blanket and threw it over Aldonza's naked form, slowly rising and pulling on his trousers. "It's about time I check on my men, begin work for the day. I'll—we'll discuss later, mi gato." He maneuvered around the innkeeper and out the door, but not before tossing her a few gold coins. The distinctive clicks of his boots echoed down the hallway until they were no longer audible, music to her ears.

"Aldonza, may I—" The innkeeper asked with an apologetic tone.

Pulling on her airy nightgown, Aldonza consented, and the old man teetered in, his eyes downcast and his cheeks colored with an embarrassed blush. "Lo siento, hija, I didn't know—"

"It's fine." Aldonza murmured roughly, stooping at the windowsill where her shard of mirror was leaned against the dirtied glass of the window. "What is it you want?"

Fernando cleared this throat and shuffled into the room, meeting her mocha eyes as she stood to face him. "The men—well, Paco and Juan—they approached me today. They told me how sorry they were, and told me they would do whatever they could to make it up to me."

"What?" Aldonza questioned with surprised delight, unable to connect these words to the facts Pedro had confided to her earlier. "I, that's great, papa, I—"

"That's not the point of the story." Fernando interrupted, twisting his fingers together in front of him, a nervous habit. "They requested that, in the spirit of forgiveness and giving, we help throw a birthday celebration for Anselmo. He'll be turning nineteen, and they want to prove to their leader that they are class-act gentlemen, apologize as much to him and you and I as much as celebrate their comrade.

"I told them that was fine. Isn't that great, Aldonza? A little rendezvous to get our minds off of everything that has happened, the sorrow?" He looked around the little shack of a room, dismissing her searching eyes, her confusedly content countenance. "Ahh, and I see you've been busy." He appraised a pile of gold coins, taking the lot of them save for three, stuffing them deeply into his pockets. "Be safe." He told her sternly, turning to leave. "There's a list in the kitchen of the things you need to gather for this party—it will be tomorrow. And make yourself pretty, mi hija—Anselmo will be a man, and you know what men want."

As Fernando retreated into the depths of the inn, Aldonza sighed, pulling on a dirtied skirt and roughly-sewn shirt. "Oh, I know what men want." She muttered to herself, pulling her snarled, black curls into a bun. A few loose strands crept from the hay hair tie and framed her face neatly, accenting her rouged lips, her caramel encased eyes.

She knew what men wanted—they all, ultimately, wanted the same thing. The young woman had experienced this first hand. She had been ganged up on, surrounded by bulky muscles and rooted, dark intentions. She had been underneath, on top of, to the side of, forced backwards for man's sick intentions, dirty fulfillments of the love child of filthy desire and uncontrollable need. She had been under the lash of grabby hands, of hate-filled eyes, of relentless thrusts and smacks and rips and cracks.

There was nothing different in this group of men. They wanted the same thing, the same pair of open legs, the same insides, the same consenting woman. The difference in this group of men was that one of them was able to treat her the way a woman was supposed to be treated, the way that Aldonza had hopelessly dreamed about at night when she was alone, or when she was consenting to rough servicing of countless men. Her exterior may have been exposed, but her insides—her very soul—was secret to everyone, except God, herself, and now—now it was exposed, defenseless, vulnerable to Pedro Antonin.

What could he be planning? She wondered as she applied a mound of red clay to her lips, shifting it around as she rubbed the chapped flesh together. How was he—how were they—going to defeat the rogue members of their group without serious injury? What if they failed? What if, in the process of fighting for what she believed was right—one of them—Pedro, Anselmo, even Fernando, dare he choose a side—became seriously injured, maimed. What if it was fatal? How could she live with killing someone—whether it be accident or not? She had often daydreamed about slowly slicing throats of her previous customers for the way that they pounded against her, as if she was a piece of meat, or how she would bruise and stab and hit those who failed to pay her, for those who beat her, for those who spat on her like filthy scum of the earth. It's not like she had chosen this life. She had been left to this life, left to crawl towards it with mercy to even have a chance at surviving in this filthy world that—until now—had treated her like horse shit.

But to fatally wound one of her own—she could hardly think of anything worse.

Aldonza sighed and took a rare moment to light a candle and fall on her knees, praying to God that she would be not be forced into such a serious condition. With her hands clasped together, she began to pray aloud, mumbling into the flame of the candle the secrets of her soul, the desires of her heart, the logic in her mind. She stood up and blew out the candle before heading to the kitchen to gather the list of items she needed to pick up for the impromptu rendezvous.

Aldonza entered the village on her shabby burro, tying it wearily to a hitching post before gathering her baskets and walking to the stands, the makeshift storefronts.

"Aye, Hermosa, you don't want that child, no?" A seedy voice called from the depths of a carriage that had been converted into a store. A violent purple curtain was pulled back to reveal a withered woman sitting in the cart, a crystal orb placed on a rickety table. Maps of stars and gauzy decorations littered the tattered cart, though Aldonza was drawn to the mystical voice of the old woman.

"What child?" She asked inquisitively, taking a few curious steps towards her.

"El niño en su vientre," The woman replied in perfect Spanish, pointing at her belly.

Aldonza's eyebrows knit in confusion. "My belly—I'm not with child." She told her harshly, shaking her head and turning away from the darkened cart.

"The Eye sees all!" The woman called out in a high-pitched, all-knowing voice. "And the Eye is telling me you have conceived a child. Come, come, child, let the Eye consult your destiny!"

Aldonza turned to look at the woman and was drawn to the luring motion of her finger, which was urging her to come closer. As if under a trance, Aldonza followed, soon sitting across from the woman. With the curtain closed, the only light emitted from the center of the glass oracle; it illuminated the fortune tellers face with a ghostly light, mirroring over her eyes and making them appear large, ghoulish. "Now, daughter of the Almighty, the Eye is telling me that you have been blessed with child."

She stared across at the young woman, whose eyes seemed to sputter with defense. "Ahh, you have." The older woman moved her hands around the orbs as white mist swirled around in smoky spirals.

"Who is the father?" Aldonza asked in a tiny voice, thinking of her encounters with both Pedro and Juan.

"Whoever you slept with." The old woman replied harshly, filling the tiny carriage with a wild cackle. "Oh, wait!" She stopped laughing suddenly, her eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head as she was enlightened with new information from this apparent eye. "I'm sensing… I'm sensing you have slept with at least more than one man. Is this true, daughter?"

Aldonza nodded, her eyes shifting with rough curiosity. "Yes, what of it?" She asked defensively, though with a tinge of undying interest.

"Your child will be born still, with no life." The fortune teller told her sadly, clasping her hands in front of her as she consulted the oracle. "And even if it was born with life, it would be damned to a life of cruel misery. It's life would be taken from the lack of it you possess.

"It is best to take care of it, daughter of the Almighty." The fortune teller told her seriously, her beady eyes meeting hers with total seriousness. "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" Aldonza questioned, a wave of panic rising to her throat like vomit. "For what?"

"You want to take care of your child, don't you?" The fortune teller asked with guilt. "You don't want them to be born only to die, do you? And what of the father?" She questioned, approaching her and gripping her shoulders with surprisingly strong hands. "What would they say? They don't want a child, they are nothing but traveling men, and you a lucky convenience. Don't you want the best for them? For your future child? For yourself?"

"I—yes, I do, but—" Aldonza sputtered, her head spinning from her quick, crinkled words, her tone. "I can do it myself."

"Oh, no, child!" The woman nearly screamed, causing Aldonza to stumble backwards from the sudden startle of noise. "I must help you. Please, let me help you—I've helped others before. Trust me. Look into my eyes and tell me you understand, you want help."

Aldonza stared into the wizened eyes of the woman and somehow found that she was telling the honest truth. Without being aware of her actions, she nodded her head, a smoke seeming to filter through her ears to clog her consciousness, her reasoning, her understanding of just what was about to happen to her.

"Alright, Hermosa, come with me." She told her, fixing a strong grip on her arm and practically dragging her out of the makeshift store, through the velvet curtain. She heaved her to an alleyway, Aldonza complying with the cooperation of a corpse. She was unknowing, unmoving, unaware of what was happening to her.

Suddenly three or four men appeared in the alleyway and approached her, nodding to the old woman; they were apparently in cahoots, business. Two clamped a fierce grip on each of her upper arms, sliding her down the brick wall, scraping her back. Two others spread her legs far apart, lifting her skirt so that her genitals were open, exposed. "Coge la tetera!" The woman told another man, who ran back to the carriage. "Today, we make money." She murmured to the remaining men, nodding her head. "Go ahead." She told them. The two on Aldonza's arms kept their grips on her arms as the others began to swing and punch and slap the poor woman's belly. Awakening from her daze, Aldonza let out an intense, pain-filled yowl, doubling in half as the men beat her stomach. One stood and fiercely brought the heel of his boot into her abdomen, causing her back to crack against the solid ground, the dirty concrete. A sharp crack was heard and Aldonza yowled, fighting the grips of the men to place a hand over her ribs, her lower back. "Détente!" She screamed ruefully, her voice becoming hoarse from the intensity of her screams, her pleas for help.

The other man returned with a boiling kettle. Handing it to the woman, he resumed his spot and together, he and the other man spread her legs apart, once again exposing her genitals. The aged woman stirred the contents of the kettle before slowing bringing the tip of it to her genitals, squirting the steaming water inside with a thick tip of the kettle. Aldonza's head slammed back against the adobe building, the veins in her neck popping out as she yowled and screamed. Her fists beat against her sides as she cried and bawled, screeched pleas and treacherous groans filling the afternoon air. A sharpened tool was suddenly piercing her insides and she wailed a final scream, a rash of sweat and tears covering her blotchy forehead, her devastated visage.

"Take the money." The old woman commanded one of the men, who removed Aldonza's money pouch from her belt. She leaned over her crumpled form as the men retreated to the main stretch, and she whispered sweetly, "You'll thank me, Hermosa. Your child wouldn't have had a good life, anyways." With a dark chuckle she hobbled off, eagerly gripping the leather pouch of coins and that clanked together with her every move.

Aldonza slowly closed her eyes, bringing her legs up to her chest as she slept with the stars, the constellations, the only place where she could exist without feeling any Earthly pain.

She awoke roughly to soft fingers who were softly caressing her face, sighing with sadness as a soft rag was pressed against her face. Aldonza startled, her eyes meeting those of an old man. She crawled roughly backwards, slamming into the wall with a painful scream as she struggled to separate herself from the stranger.

"Shh, shh, Aldonza, it's me!"

Aldonza forced herself to look at the stranger and slowly understood. An embarrassed, apologetic look rearranged her face as she met his sympathetic eyes. "Lo siento, Padre." She murmured, crawling towards him. "I thought—well, I thought you were—"

"You don't need to explain to me." The Padre murmured kindly. "Come, Maria, it's okay. Aldonza, this is Maria. I have been showing our newest disciple how we care for the night dwellers." He nodded to the young woman, who slowly came forward and handed Aldonza a piece of bread, a gold chalice of clear water. "Eat." She murmured softly. "And drink. And Praise God."

"Praise be." Aldonza murmured, closing her eyes with respect as she partook of the warm loaf of bread and the water, feeling it nourish her ravaged body. It was only then that she remembered what had happened to her, how she had been blindly attacked; at this consciousness, her body seemed to reveal to her its physical pain as well, and she clutched at her sides, her abdomen, her groin.

Maria and the Padre turned to leave. "God bless you, Aldonza." He murmured to her with a pure heart. "The church is always a physical reminder of God's love for you." He told her softly with knowing eyes. "But know that Jesus is the eternal light, and that you only need to look to Him for condolence. No matter the pain—physical or emotional—he will heal with his Love."

"His love." Aldonza muttered to herself as she forced herself to stand, bending in half from the struggle. She clutched the wall as she moved forward with tiny, pain-inducing steps. It was all she could do to mount her burrow, leaning against it with tremendous weight and agony as it lazily climbed the hills and arrived at the inn.

"Aldonza!" The men cried out merrily as she arrived. They were seated around the table, a fire blazing into the wee hours of the approaching morning. Cards were being passed out and makeshift chips were thrown into the middle, rowdy bets being yelled into the air and multiple mugs of wine and ale being emptied. "You were gone a while!" One of them called out. "Find something in town you just couldn't resist?"

"Ahh, but I wasn't there," Paco called out arrogantly. "She couldn't have!"

"The old one was worried about you." Juan told her, slapping her ass roughly as she passed with limping steps. She grunted and nearly fell to the ground from this jagged action.

"And we were worried because he had to prepare supper all by himself!" Anselmo joked, nursing a tilting mug. The men laughed at this and patted him good-naturedly on the shoulder, some guffawing, others too immersed in their drink to notice or care that the young woman was back.

Aldonza continued to limp towards the inn, her bloodied legs barely able to carry her weight. She looked back at the table a final time and saw Pedro's eyes fixated on her, his eyebrows joined with imminent concern. She merely shook his head at her, holding her stomach as she continued to the inn and to her room, where she collapsed onto the hard floor with a harsh crumble of exhausted limbs, sore muscles and pierced innards. Her heart was breaking as she realized the extent of the danger she had been put in today. Not only would she be in trouble with Fernando for failing to fulfil his task of buying items for the rendezvous, she had had the opportunity to ever have children ripped away from her. She had been reduced to nothing, which was everything that she was. She had been forced to live as exactly what she was, exactly what she didn't want to be. Hot tears stung her face as she shook violently, vicious sobs racking her frame as she finally fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Aldonza writhed against the mattress for the second time in the last twenty-four hours, her fists clenching the fabric and hay with fierce passion. "Mother of God!" She hissed, biting down on her bleeding lips, tasting the irony flavor of blood, of sweat dripping down her strained forehead, of tears rolling down her puffy cheeks.

Fernando gripped her arm as Pedro sat between her legs, sliding the rag into the pulsating woman. "Lo siento," He murmured with a steady hand, inching the rag farther into her body. "Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento." His eyes were angled with a dejected slant, focused on the task at hand.

"This is what they say to do," Fernando murmured to her in a gentle voice. "For those who wish to rid themselves of the poisons." He shook his head grimly with pursed lips, grumbling about the attack and the very need for this situation. "Lemon juice and goats milk," He murmured as Pedro completely inserted the rag. "For three hours, legs elevated. Will rid anyone of any chance of child, as well as anything received from the act itself." Aldonza slowly lowered her legs to the ground as she clutched her stomach, where Pedro was now rubbing a salve on her many bruises, cuts and lacerations. "No, mi hija, your legs have to be elevated." He told her sternly, releasing his firm grip on her arm now that she was no longer fighting. He stood and retrieved a chair from the courtyard, returning and placing it so that she could lean her legs against it. The young woman whimpered grimly as she was poked and prodded. Finally, after what seemed like hours, they were done. Fernando retired to unknown depths of the inn while Pedro made a bed next to her, lying against the hard floor against his propped up elbow. A sad look turned his countenance awry as he took turns staring at her crumbled form, her elevated legs, her depressed visage.

"I'm so sorry." He murmured, picking up her hand and rubbing it soothingly with his own.

Aldonza remained silent, listening to the cock's first crow, the grumble of waking men, the cackling of a newborn fire.

"Do you know—" Pedro began in a desperate voice.

"No." Aldonza replied with decisive finality. "I don't know. You don't know if you're with child for four weeks, five. If you miss the week of blood, the monthly period."

"Well then why was that crack-ass lady so sure you were—"

"I don't know." Aldonza snapped, more upset with herself for being so stupid than with Pedro's innocent questions. "I don't know, okay? I guess I just got—" She caught herself, halted. "It doesn't matter."

"What?" Pedro asked, a sliver of hope tickling his voice. "What were you saying? Are you saying—" He gripped her hand tighter, placing a kiss one the outstretched fingers. "That you were excited at the prospect of having a child? Possibly—my child?"

The words were released and hung in the air between the two lovers, separating them and yet drawing them closer. "It would never work." Aldonza told him wearily, having been haunted by these images, these impossibilities, these desires. "You're going to leave, I'm going to constantly be sleeping around—people like me," She choked out. "Are not supposed to have kids."

Pedro scooted closer to her until his lips and nose were pressed into her neck, his arm stretching across her body so that he was wrapping her in a consoling hug. She pressed herself to his form and choked out a sob, her frame wracking against him like waves to the shore of the distant ocean. He held her and comforted her, cooing gently that everything was going to be okay.

"It hurt so bad, Pedro." Aldonza cried into his chest, streaking his shirt with rough, salty tears. "I thought I was going to die. And then when I came to, when I realized what had happened—I thought I was going to die from embarrassment. I was p-prepared to die in that damned alleyway." He stroked her hair, pushing it behind her ear and reassuringly rubbing her hand, squeezing gently. "The worst part of this whole event, though, is that I had hope. And then—" She cleared her throat and sniffled loudly, red, swollen eyes leaking inevitable tears. "It was ripped from me.

"But it will never work." She mumbled sadly into his neck, taking deep breaths as she forced herself into a false calm. "This isn't the first time I've had the old lemon juice trick that Fernando is so adamant about. It's just the first time someone has cared enough about me to do it themselves."

Pedro stared down at her lame figure and kissed her softly, nuzzling into her neck and cushioning his head against her breasts. "It may be impossible," He murmured softly against the worn fabric of her tunic. "The impossibility is what makes it so hard to give up. It's easy to believe in something when it's far away, when it's unattainable. Isn't it strange," He asked her, rubbing her stomach with a soft caress of his fingers. "That what is reachable seems harder compared to the impossible? That we are more willing to work for something we know is impossible to reach instead of something tangible, something real?"

Aldonza thought about this, shifting her legs against the wooden chair. "It's because we know we're not going to get hurt." She murmured forebodingly, her fingers tangling in Pedro's dark locks absentmindedly. "We'll never have the opportunity to get hurt, so what stops us from trying? From believing?"

They hummed softly at this wretched yet honest observation, feeling as though, for the first time, someone understood the struggle that it seemed only certain individuals were destined to go through.

"Do you think it will hurt?" Pedro asked her softly, without selfishness.

"There's only one way to find out," Aldonza replied with a soft laugh. "But not tonight."

"Of course." He responded automatically.

"And it will be with you." She told him fiercely, her tone dripping with passions. "You will test the waters. The others—they'll be too rough, to harsh, to hurried. As far as Anselmo's birthday present—do you think he'll understand?" She looked through her dark lashes at Pedro's contemplative eyes.

"I think so." He murmured. "And if he doesn't? I'll just wrestle him to the floor. He's got nothing on me." He grinned toothily at her, flexing his eyebrows. "A woman can always service a man in other ways." He reminded her, rubbing a thumb across her eyebrow. "But see where the night takes you. He might just take one look at your breasts and pass out from excitement."

A harsh laugh escaped Aldonza's figure at this explanation. "I mean, I almost did." Pedro told her, nuzzling his face and lips into them once more. A squeal of delight emitted from the young woman. "Stop it, Pedro!" She pretended to fight him, pounding light fists against his back. As he writhed over her, his weight shifted and pressed into her stomach, legs. She let out a soft groan of pain and soon he was quickly clamoring off of her, muttering blushed apologies.

"I have a plan." Aldonza told him, rearranging her legs as they leaned stiffly against the chair.

"A plan?" Pedro questioned curiously.

"Si." She replied, her mocha eyes caressing his caramel cheeks, his strong nose, his defined jawline that was covered with coarse hair. "At the rendezvous, I'm going to—" A harsh knock interrupted the woman as Fernando loudly exclaimed his presence, entering with a slow turn of the door as to not repeat the mistake he had made before when he had barged in unannounced.

"It's been three hours." He grumbled, grabbing her ankles and setting them lightly down onto the hard floor. Aldonza's legs suddenly seemed awake, alive as the blood rushed into her legs, regaining painful, tingly feeling. Setting down a bowl of mutton stew, he pushed it towards the young woman, eying Pedro with expectation. "You best be off to your men," Fernando told him gruffly. "They've been working, but not nearly hard enough. Take care of it." He nodded his head in conclusion, turning to leave and slamming the door with impatience.

Pedro huffed loudly, knowing he would have a long day's work ahead of him as he stood, ambled slowly towards the door. "Another pleasure for now," He murmured as he fingered the doorknob, unable to tear his eyes away from Aldonza. "What are you planning?" He asked with obvious interest, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Let me take care of it," Aldonza murmured through slurps of soup. "Just know that whatever is said—it's for the better, alright? Like you, I talk to my customers in a… a different language." She nodded and waved her hand at him, giving him the physical dismissal he needed to lightly open the door and ease out of it, leaving the young woman to her plotting, her devious scheming.

"Aye, hija, due to the… unfortunate events that took place in the village, I'm asking that you go to the one up the mountain instead, west of the tallest hill? They won't have as good of products as the other town, but I would not ask you to go back so soon." He plastered a smile on his worried countenance as he handed her a lightly-loaded money pouch and a revised list of items. "And you're sure you don't want anyone to go with you?" He asked, placing a caring hand on her shoulder.

Aldonza nodded, wrapping her trademark robozo around her head, shielding her dark hair from her comparable skin. "Si," She replied quietly, bringing the list to her chest after attaching the money pouch to her belt. "The men are busy, you're busy—there's no need." She handily grabbed a small blade from her belt and waved it dangerously, mockingly towards the old man, who stumbled back with a nervous laugh. "I'm prepared." She told him, tucking it into the folds of her skirt.

"Aye, that you are." Fernando told her, pressing on her lower back so that she headed towards the door. "Be back before dusk." He told her, almost as an afterthought. "You had me worried sick."

"Alright, mama!" Aldonza exclaimed with obvious sass. "I'll make my curfew!" She chuckled with rough laughter as she mounted her burrow and rode into the new town with the light of day as her only companion.

With her purchases in her weighed down arms, Aldonza returned once more to the kitchen, where she began to bake, skin the chicken for supper, decorate the court yard as a surprise for the men—for the birthday boy—to return home to once they retreated from the fields, the setting sun acting as the informal dinner bell.

They approached in a rowdy group, laughing and joking and punching and mock wrestling. "I can, too!" Anselmo yelled good naturedly towards his older brother, who was giving him a knowing look. "You're just afraid I'm going to beat you, that's all."

"Beat me?" Pedro asked with a bemused smile, a mocking tone. "We'll see about that!" He grabbed Anselmo by the shoulders, and lifted him into the arms, raising him above his head in an impressive feat as the younger brother's arms and legs flailed around him like tossed spaghetti noodles.

"Okay, okay!" Anselmo cried out. "Put me down, you pile of dung!" He was lowered onto his brother's shoulders in an impromptu piggy back ride, mimicking the days of yore when they were children, running amuck through the fields playing cowboys and Indians.

"Well if it isn't the man of the day!" Fernando exclaimed, inviting the men to sit at the table for a specially-prepared supper. "Feliz cumpleaños, Anselmo!" He said with a rare smile. With a gust of energy, the group of muleteers burst into song, singing with rough voices the age old tune.

At its conclusion, Aldonza brought out a cake that was lined with chocolate frosting. Shaky letters spelled out, 'Feliz cumpleaños, Anselmo!' in white frosting, and as she placed it on the table in front of him, she whispered with a sultry air, "Blow."

He looked up into the dark eyes of the seductive women, a boyish blush painting itself on his face as his eyebrows knit in confusion.

"The candles!" Paco exclaimed, slapping him gently on the back of the head. "Jeeze, the boy turns nineteen and suddenly he has the mind of a pervert!" The table filled with laughter as the man in question blew out the flaming candles.

"But not as much of a pervert as Juan," Paco teased good naturedly, winking at his friend and shoving his shoulder into his side.

"No, no, mi amigo, you should compare him to Pedro!" Juan called out in a rough tone that possessed a teasing undertone. "He's the one that can't seem to get his pleasures fulfilled."

"Pleasures? Fulfilled?" Pedro questioned slowly as Aldonza retreated into the kitchen, shaking her ass with a little more sass than entirely necessary. "Never. It's a curse."

"Is that why you keep returning to her?" Anselmo asked with childlike curiosity. "Are you hoping she'll take care of them?"

Pedro clapped a knowing hand on his brother's shoulder. "If you play your cards right, you might find out tonight, hermanito." At this exclamation Anselmo's gooey eyes widened until they were the size of dinner plates.

Aldonza and Fernando continued to bring plates to the table. The young woman sat the plate of chicken in front of Anselmo, leaning over the table so that her exposed cleavage was nearly falling out of her shirt. "Will you be my prisoner tonight?" She asked him in a whiny tone, lifting his chin so that his eyes were glued to hers.

Anselmo sputtered, seemingly at a loss for words. "Answer the woman." Pedro mumbled to him, pushing his head with brotherly love and delivering a wink to his love. "She deserves an answer." Their mutually-understood plan was following its course.

"Si." He whispered nervously as she turned from him and strutted to her place at the table. She took long, languid bites, sucking on her foot and chewing with harsh ferocity, never taking her alluring, mocha eyes from his round, naïve and excited ones.

One by one, the muleteers finished their supper and dismissed themselves from the table. Aldonza began her nightly ritual of clearing the table though was stopped with a firm grip from Fernando. "I can take care of it tonight, hija." He told her with a solemn, knowing smile. "You've got more important things to do." Nodding towards Anselmo, he took the stack of plates from her, retreating to the kitchen.

She headed towards the sound of music, and soon was dancing with Paco, their bodies woven together as the music pulsed through them. Juan, his guitar strewn over his shoulder with a burlap strap, closed his eyes in lyrical concentration, moving to his own, internal beat as his fingers strummed, his boots tapped, his shoulders shimmied, his instrument vibrated into the starry night.

"How do I know what to do?" Anselmo asked his older brother nervously as they sat at a crude bench that was situated around the makeshift stove, the blazing fire that filled the night with lustrous light.

Pedro cleared his throat and patted his brother's shoulder. "Don't think about it," He advised honestly, running his free hand through his own grimy locks. "Just let your body do what it wants to do. See, look at Paco," He pointed out, nodding to his friend. "You see the way he grips Aldonza's waist? Why do you think he does that?"

Anselmo bit his lip in concentration. "Um… Because curves… er, her hips—they're, um…"

"Are you attracted to them?"

"Yes."

"Well so is Paco." Pedro replied bluntly. "He sees what he wants and he takes it. But he's not rough about it—" He cleared his throat before continuing, "That's where Juan has gone wrong. Juan takes it because he wants it. In Juan's mind, he is the only thing that matters. You can't treat a woman as if she is an object, because objects don't have feelings. A woman—she is like the guitar Juan is playing. That's not to say a woman should be played, but merely—tuned, practiced. Respected." He finished. "Clear as mud?"

Anselmo nodded, looking up to his brother for more advice. "Now get out there," Pedro commanded, pushing him roughly towards the other muleteers. "Show her what you want."

"But what if—" Anselmo stammered.

"Don't think."

Anselmo anxiously approached Aldonza, placing awkward hands on her shoulders as he danced behind her. Grinding his hips against her, he felt his hands travel down her shoulders, intertwining on the other side of her stomach, feeling her shaking curves and hips dance with his limbs, his body. Aldonza winked at Paco, murmuring in his ear before turning into Anselmo and pressing her whole figure into his. "Hola." She said in a sultry tone. "How does it feel to be a man?" She batted her eyes and gripped his hips, lowering her hands to squeeze his firm ass as she pressed him closer to her, feeling the physical effects of his arousal.

"Unreal." Anselmo replied honestly. He pressed his lips against her cheek, moving them against her jaw until he was whispering in her ear. "Oh, really?" Aldonza replied with surprised pleasure. "Well, then, come on." She removed herself from his grip and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the direction of the stables.

Juan stopped playing as he watched Anselmo being dragged away by Aldonza, love sick and not unlike a lost puppy. "So he gets lucky just because it's his birthday?" He muttered jealously.

"Aye, let him have his fun." Pedro told him with a playful push. "It's not every day you become a man."

"And you're okay with this?" Juan asked him incredulously, unable to meet his eyes. "Your own brother with her?"

Pedro shrugged half-heartedly, putting up a front. "She's not that important."

"Really?" Paco stated with surprised interest. "You've certainly been with her a lot."

"Can a man not choose how he spends his money?" Pedro asked defensively. "Who knows when he next time will be when we have the opportunity to get some action besides from our own fist? Which," Pedro directed his attention to Paco. "reminds me, Paco. We've all been with her—when are you going to join the club?"

Paco grinned deeply with menacing eyebrows. "She's already requested me." He stated with harsh excitement.

Meanwhile, Aldonza was circling around Anselmo, shaking her shoulders as she removed her shirt with nimble, practiced fingers. At the sight of her breasts, Anselmo reached out his hands and cupped them, squeezing with hard pressure that forced the young woman to her knees. He looked as though he was about to pass out from happiness at the sight, the sensual feelings that were pulsating through his veins. He moved his hands down her body until he was removing her skirt, revealing her tanned body that was accentuated by the pale hay, the flickering of a few candles. Anselmo stared at her with tingling insides, searching hands that were too timid to reach out and taste her body.

"Well don't just stare at me," Aldonza muttered harshly. "Touch me. Kiss me. Show me what you've got." Anselmo complied and leaned over her gently, kissing her with virgin lips that were sadly inexperienced. He may have had Pedro's inherited smile, Aldonza thought, but certainly not the skill, the tact. Anelmo brought trembling knees on either side of her bruised torso and groaned as she reached into his trousers to stroke the prize inside. "Please, Anselmo." She moaned wetly against his neck. "Show me your manly desires."

He fumbled out of his pants and was soon clumsily slamming into her, inexperienced hips faltering as he found an awkward pace. In a matter of minutes he was coming with an strangled cry, gripping onto Aldonza's shoulders with bruising fingers.

Anselmo fell asleep almost instantly, hazy eyes conveying mushy, impossible promises of boyish love, much to Aldonza's chagrin. She left the stable with amused sleepiness before entering a neighboring shack. She pierced her eyes into the strong form of Pedro, who was sharping his knife on a plank of rusty iron. "Hola," She murmured, dropping her airy robozo to the ground to reveal her naked body. "You requested me?"

Paco appraised her body with a sweep of his dark eyes. "Si." He replied gruffly. "Now get over here, your dirty whore." Aldonza sauntered towards him, almost danced. He gripped her sides roughly and threw her to the floor, placing a knee on her stomach so that she couldn't refuse his aggressive advances. "Do you think you can pull the wool over my eyes, bitch?" He growled in her ear, restraining her hands behind her back.

A fierce spasm of fear wracked Aldonza's frame, though her countenance remained calm. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Paco brought his hand back and slapped her face with a fleshly slap. "Don't make me out to be a fool." He barked as he removed his trousers, spanking her bare hips with his genitals. "I know what you're doing. You and Pedro can pretend to hate each other, but I've heard him talking about you in his sleep, to his brother. I know what's going on, and if you know what's for your own good, you'll stop the nonsense and join the right side—my side."

Aldonza smirked up at him, shaking her head with an amused chuckle. "Oh, Paco." She hummed, puckering her lips into a needy pout. "I'm already there. Pedro, he's a convenience. You think I'm fooling you? You've got it all wrong." She worked her hands under his grip until they were free, reaching up to grip his strong jawline, his murderous lips. "I've always been on your side. Won't Pedro be deceived when he realizes I've been playing him all along?" She watched as Paco considered this new information. Before he could think about it too long, she whined seductively, "Now screw me, you lug."


	10. Chapter 10

Pedro dropped the pile of wood he had been carrying into the dormant fire pit with a hearty grunt. "Not that it matters," He called to Aldonza, who was approaching with a similar arm load of cinnamon tree bark. "But I couldn't help but overhear, notice what you did… or rather, didn't do… last night."

"What?" Aldonza asked with a flat, annoyed tone, like the buzzing of a pesky fly.

"Well, you told me that I would be the first person you would sleep with. You know, after what happened and everything…" Aldonza looked up at him, wiping a grimy hand against her similar brow.

"Well I'm terribly sorry to have broken that promise." She replied gruffly, stooping down to rub the sticks together, lighting the kindling with energized heat. "It wasn't exactly what I wanted to do. And you weren't exactly stopping anyone."

Pedro choked on a rough laugh. "Oh, mi gato, but you told me I was supposed to let you do what you do best." She penetrated his cocky smile with a glare, staring up at him through lashes caked with thick dirt and runny sweat.

"So practically throwing your brother on top of me was letting me do that?" She asked in a calm yet loaded voice. The two continued their rounds of verbal Russian roulette; soon, someone would say something irrevocable, deadly, and the fun banter would be merely remembered as a tragic act of stupidity.

"There's more than one way to skin a cat." Pedro defended with a playful tone as he pressed his toes across the imaginary, emotional lines, testing the waters of how far he could go. "It was his first time as a man. Doesn't my brother deserve the best?"

"The best," Aldonza scoffed roughly, swearing under her breath as a few rogue flames burned her exposed, kneeling knees. "What other option does he have for women around here?" The young woman pretended to think, looking around with a finger drawn on her lips before suddenly exclaiming, "Oh, I know! How about down in the village? Maybe he could have the time of his life with the old lady down there who likes to beat the shit out of women! I'm sure they'd have a great time together, maybe he could show her a thing or two about being gentle!"

"Aldonza!" Pedro cried playfully, gripping her shoulders as she stood up to face him. "Please, he's mi hermanito, and you—you're the moon, the stars. It was his first time—come on, don't you remember how you felt on that night? How you wanted everything to be perfect? That's all I was doing for him."

Aldonza backed up from him with measured, yet shaky, steps. "I do indeed remember my first time." She spat in a scary whisper. "I remember crying out to the Lord above to take me from this world. I remember banging my head against the altar as the one stable man I had in my life at the time deceived me and stole the only thing I had possession over." Angry tears littered the corners of her eyes as she turned her back from him, stalking into the trees to gather more firewood. "So yes, Pedro, I do remember." She seemed to spray a warning scent of danger, living up to her pet name.

"Mi gato, wait!" Pedro called after her with a good natured chuckle. He caught up to her and placed his arms around her, only to have her shove a thick log into his stomach, scraping harsh bark against his tender wound and causing him to stumble backwards, landing on the hard, wood-infested ground with a surprised yell. Aldonza's muddied eyes expanded with a mixture of fear and shock as she dropped the pile of gathered wood and bent down to examine her love.

A new hand was wrapping around her neck, adventuring fingers tickling the exposed skin that led to her breasts. "Ahh, I see you're following our little plan." Paco murmured just loud enough for Pedro's strained ears to hear, his woozy mind barely able to comprehend the situation around him.

Aldonza fixed a pointed stare at Pedro before slinking into Paco's strong arms, seemingly melting into them, skin on skin, lips to neck, joining hearts. "I told you I would, didn't I?" She crooned with hidden confusion into his domineering presence. "But you know this is only the first step."

Paco nodded as his hands traveled lower, caressing her lower back before plunging to embrace the round caverns of her firm ass. "Si, that it is."

Juan appeared a few leagues of trees away and sauntered towards her, a knife extending from his left hand as he sharpened it on a piece of rough wood. "Ahh, our little rat is taking care of business." He grinned snidely, throwing the knife in the air and watching it land dangerously close to Pedro's defenseless toes. "Goooooood." He purred, slinking around her before bending straight down to pick up the knife, shaking his assets in the air for the sexy woman.

"Well, go on." Juan told her impatiently, placing a firm foot on Pedro's abdomen and applying heavy pressure to his inflamed wound, watching as it oozed through his shirt. Pedro gritted his teeth, bit his lip, the pinkish skin flattening under his teeth, forced his eyes to stare, without emotion, at Aldonza.

Aldonza returned the gaze, spinning with curiosity and confusion on just whose side she was on in this tangled situation.

"Come on!" Paco growled in her ear, pushing her forward as she emitted a surprised yelp. Juan handed her the knife and clapped his hands together with near glee as their previous leader would be tortured by the one he loved most.

Aldonza fell to her knees on the harsh ground, glaring sunlight sinking through the trees to shed sick light on the situation. "Do it." Pedro told her selflessly. "You heard the men."

The young woman hesitated, staring at the point of the crude knife, the rough metal, the angled blade that, if twisted in her enemy, or perhaps, nearly, her loved one, would be fatal enough to kill. She gazed at the knife and then at Pedro, and back again, again, again, and again. "Who's side are you on, whore?" Juan asked with a quiet, intense anger. "See, Paco, I told you she couldn't do it!"

"Shut up, you bloated idiot." Paco growled with a dangerous tone. "Let the woman do what she promised." He pulled his own knife out of its sheathe on his leather belt and placed it lightly on the small of Aldonza's back, tapping the point of it through her soiled tunic. "She knows the consequences of fighting fire with fire, sword with sword—love with hate."

Aldonza squeezed her eyes closed with a fierce, choking with a strangled sob as she raised the knife above her head, shaking it dangerously close to her temple as she trembled with indecision. With a loud yowl she plunged the knife into the ground just inches away from Pedro's head. "Now!" She yelled, still holding tight onto the tall handle of the knife. Holding onto it for dear life, she threw herself with impressive strength onto the other side of the blade, which was still stuck firmly into the ground, all the while bringing her feet back to donkey kick Paco in the groin. He crumpled over, dropping his knife from the unexpected pain as Pedro scrambled on the ground. Sticking out a foot, he effectively tripped Juan, who was reaching for the blade with an angry cry from being doubly deceived by a lowly kitchen slut and his hated leader.

Pedro reached for the second knife as Aldonza heaved its predecessor out of the ground, just in time to hit Juan with the side of it over the head. He cried from the pain and grabbed onto her legs, pulling with his last ounce of strength and watching with deadly excitement as she lost her balance, falling onto the ground and dropping the knife to her side. "Pedro!" She cried out as she saw Paco grab her fallen weapon and amble towards Pedro, who was fighting to stand from the pain of his now-open wound. At this cry Paco turned his attention towards her and, changing course, sauntered towards her, grinning and licking the blade of the weapon with disgusting glee. "You filthy, lying bitch." He murmured with terrifying anger. He watched as she twisted helplessly backwards on her hands and knees, fighting to tear herself away from the situation in fear for her own life. She continued backwards until she ran into the trunk of a tree, sharply knocking her head into it with a loud, fleshy bump. It was enough to cause her eyes to blur, her head to pound with an invisible, internal pulse. "You swore to me—you told me you were going to kill him."

Aldonza fought to remain conscious as she stared up into the eyes of her soon to be killer. "And you told me you'd be worth the pain!" She stammered with a guttural insult. "Well let me tell you something—you aren't worth a damn thing."

"Aldonza? Hija, is everything okay?" Fernando's aging voice questioned as it floated through the dense grove of trees.

"Fernando, no!" Pedro yelled, now standing fully erect, hand on belly in attempts to stop the blood that was now oozing out of it at a rapid pace. "Ayudame!" He cried out, his hoarse voice piercing the afternoon haze with pleas for help.

"Pedro, run!" Aldonza cried out as Paco fingered the blade, running a finger over it and tapping it lightly on the peak as he considered the various ways in which he could kill his victim. "Please, get away—I have no chance."

"Neither does your lover!" Juan exclaimed as his grip tightened on the pale form of Pedro, a rag now stuffed in his mouth to sufficiently quiet Aldonza's only hope at survival.

"Please," Aldonza pleaded with shallow breaths. "Please, get it done quickly."

"Is that what you want?" Paco asked inquisitively, squatting down so that he was on the same level as the young woman. "Well, isn't that a shame, somebody unable to get what they want. You—I'm going to make you feel it.

"Funny, that's precisely what you did last night." He mused, kicking dirt onto her exposed calves, her dirtied, bare feet. "I want to not only hear your pain, but feel it deep in my bones. Are you ready?" Aldonza closed her eyes with a silent prayer and waited to meet her destiny.

The blade slowly pierced her sternum, its rugged point digging deeply into her flesh, carving out a jagged line as ruby red blood began to stem from the wound, leaking down her chest. "Mark her as she really is!" Juan cried out. "Show the world what she is!"

Paco obediently, slowly, and while licking his lips carved first the W, then the H, the O, R and E until he wiped the blood against her cheek, rubbing it into her skin with his fingers like blush for a corpse. She writhed and shrieked as she was degraded, the knife slowly digging into her skin with heated fury, added pressure.

Anselmo crept through the trees and met Aldonza's worried eyes, which were forced open at the sound of Pedro's vicious yowls as Juan kicked him in the groin, laughing as he tumbled onto the ground, hands clutched around his lower abdomen. She shook her head fiercely as she stared at him, though he continued forward until he was on top of a weaponless Juan. He began to beat him senseless as his brother crawled out from underneath him and towards Paco, who was too focused on torturing his captive than to notice the latest man on the scene. Paco slowly stood to examine his work, like an artist critiquing his work. He cocked his head to the side as Pedro used his last ounce of strength to crawl towards him, wrapping his hands simply around his knees and pulling, so that he was tumbling backwards. The knife fell to the ground with a sickening thud as Pedro collapsed from pain and exhaustion.

"Aldonza!" Fernando exclaimed, pushing his way through the thick foliage towards his daughter. "Aldonza, what happened?"

"Leave!" Aldonza cried with a desperate tone. "Please, papa, leave! Get away!" She howled as she clenched Paco's shirt, swinging him around her with a sudden burst of energy and adrenaline. She picked the knife up quickly from the ground and tucked her elbow into her side, aiming it towards Juan as he promptly threw Anselmo off of him and quickly rushed towards her.

"Now!" Juan yelled, and Paco seized the woman and swung her around.

Aldonza felt her blade enter into Fernando's chest as she was forced to stab him, feeling Paco's strong form push her into her father figure with fatality. "Papa!" She let a fierce, sorrowful yowl pierce the darkening afternoon as he crumpled to the ground, a smile of all damned things arranging itself on his features.

"Thank you for being—" He began, before he blew her a final kiss and crumbled into the arms of death.

"No!" Aldonza screamed in a wretched, high pitched tone. "No no no!" She fell to her knees and cradled Fernando's head, placing her forehead against his and sobbing into his lifeless body.

"Aldonza, come!" A man's voice was crying out to her, though she was too blinded with agony to comprehend, to barely hear. "Hurry, quick!"

A strong pair of arms picked up her limp body, and soon she was seeing visions of the night as her eyelids slowly closed, encasing her in a dark corner of the world in temporary relief from deceitful pain.


	11. Chapter 11

The veil was lifted, though it tried with passionate ferocity to cling on, shield the garish light of reality, dull the immortal sting of realization as Aldonza slowly, with difficulty, opened her eyes. Her head was spinning, causing the air around her to pulse with an invisible beat. She felt indescribably weak, as if her insides had been torn with rust, inexperienced hands digging around and grabbing, pulling, breaking until she was breaking, her exterior covered with the mangled flesh and bone and muscle and heartstrings. She was throbbing with pain. A web of thoughts, like spastic nerves, erupted in her line of vision, causing her to quickly blink with disorientation. The room was becoming smaller, closing in on the young woman as hands of thick, spicy smoke began to consume her, smothering her, forcing their way through her nostrils, lips, ears, eyes. Blinking back tears, she felt a low rumble physically stir inside her. It began to tumble inside her crumpled form, like a toddler doing messily-repetitious somersaults. Slowly, it crept up her spine, dancing with hard, convulsive steps to an uninhibited salsa. It filled her stomach, caused her sides to split like a burst seam, worked its way through her ribs like a rogue pinball in a rusty machine until it was filling her mouth with bile and rough, acidic stomach juice.

Aldonza was physically flung forward as she began to wretch, hot tears gushing from her puffy eyes as she heaved, pools of sick spewing onto her lap, the pure white sheets with which she was covered. Bringing shaky fists down, she gripped the sheet and flung it off of her as it landed with a wet smack on the wood floor beneath her. Stumbling out of bed, she fell to the ground as another violent wave of nausea hit her, where she proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach until there was nothing left but unforgiving stomach acid. With a desperate, hoarse groan she collapsed to the floor, a pile of weak, pale limbs. She shook and trembled as feeling washed over her, affecting not only her physical body but her heart and, finally, her mind. With a hard blow to the head knowledge came to her, and she remembered why she was acting like this, why it felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and eaten in front of her.

It was because it had.

It was because the only person who made up what she considered her family was dead.

It was because she had been forced to kill him.

Letting out a woeful yowl, Aldonza pounded her fists on the ground and kicked her legs, a renewed bout of energy wracking her frame with angry shouts, flailing limbs and clawing fingers. She dug her fingers into her sides as though she was trying to physically hold everything inside, attempting in vain to keep it buried away. She pushed and prodded and held, though still it came tumbling out with each painful, wracked sob. Why had God punished her with this situation? Why had he decided that she—the useless whore who had already dealt with more in life than most anyone wanted to think about—needed to add one more painful event, one more reason to hate herself to the endless list? Why had he allowed things to become so good, so bright, only to have storm clouds gather and deliver a fatal, gruesome storm?

She shook and rocked and screamed and cried until she could no more. Trembling against the dirty, hard floor, she fell into an uncomfortably restless sleep.

Aldonza was floating, airily drifting through the clouds. She felt the wind softly caress her face, kiss her eyelids, her mouth, her cheeks with a sense of motherly love that she had never known, had always had to supply herself. The breeze drifted through her figure, renewing her with a rehabilitated energy. She was no longer weak, exhausted, pathetic, but now lively, young, carefree. Slowly she was set atop a particularly fluffy cloud as another one drifted over to her, like a lost puppy. It nuzzled into her skin, reaching her bones with airy contact as it hugged her with its cool yet warming presence. She was peacefully content, kissed by a dream.

"The poor dear," A voice from below muttered in a tender tone. "It's a blessing that she was found at all."

"Look at the mess she made." A second voice stated, not rudely but not entirely pleased.

"That's the least of her worries." The first voice replied, the cloud being tucked in around Aldonza's hushed figure. "Think of what the poor dear has been through. Just think—" She continued, discarding a bucket of pale water onto the wooden floor. "Killing your father to save yourself."

"An untimely sacrifice." The latter stated with a remorseful tone.

"The ultimate one." The first agreed, nodding sadly as she fixed a distraught gaze on her comatose form. "Has the other one stirred?" She asked with concerned eyes. "Go check."

A breeze gently tussled Aldonza's shadowy curls, and slowly the clouds began to disintegrate, giving way to intrusive, sunlight. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head slightly to one way and then the other as she fought to shield herself from the unwelcomed visitor. "Sister Maria, come." A wizened voice exclaimed softly, respectfully.

A harsh breeze swung by the young woman as her eyes slowly opened, making out the rough shape and form of three dark masses that surrounded her. "Madame, can you hear me?" A female voice asked her with shy interest.

A hand was gently squeezing hers, fingers pressing into her grimy wrist as it counted to the steady beating of her heart. One… Two… Three… Four… She was alive—or rather, she was living, breathing, pulsing with physical life. She would never live again, not without Fernando, not without her father. With the death of someone so close to her, her perception of humanity had been murdered as well.

"Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." A gentle voice told her. Aldonza gripped the hand with shaky fingers. Sluggishly her eyes began to adjust. Slowly his features became clear; light, grey blue eyes were framed by an array of wizened wrinkles. His white hair framed his forehead. A prominent cross hung from around his neck, and a tender smile played on his lips. He seemed to exalt the Father with his whole being as he brought a hand to his cross. Stroking it gently, he whispered, "Thank you, God, for saving this young woman today."

"Who are you?" Aldonza asked in a voice that wasn't her own. The Sisters gasped and nodded apologetically at their actions, slinking out of her line of vision and view. "Where—Where am I? And Pedro—What of Pedro?"

The Padre squeezed her hand, a _shhhh _vibrating against his kind lips. "It will be alright." He told her soothingly. "I am Padre Perez, and you are in the village of Chapote."

Aldonza's eyes narrowed as she fought to comprehend this information, to wake her brain from its dazing trance. "As for your friend," The Padre exclaimed, his eyes slanting sadly. "He is fine now, but he has been tremendously worried about you."

"After the first week, we weren't sure either of you were going to make it—you, because of your state, and he—he was suffering from a broken heart." Sister Maria exclaimed with a muffled sob.

"First week?" Aldonza questioned. "I—what are you talking about?"

"Sister Julia?" The Padre murmured with polite authority. "Go and find Pedro. Bring him here, will you?" With a nod Sister Julia retreated into the hallway as the Padre shifted his legs, his weight. He cleared his throat and motioned for the remaining Sister to accompany him. "You were asleep for twelve days." He told her softly, intertwining his fingers with her pale, bony ones.

Aldonza's visage slowly expanded, cracked at this information, like a slow motion depiction of marble being cracked with a stake and hammer. "What?" She questioned with sane disbelief.

"We weren't sure what to do." Sister Maria told her sadly, stroking her face before sliding a strand of silky hair behind her ear. "You would wake up for instances, but you wouldn't make any sense. You would start rambling, sometimes in Spanish, others in different tongues, languages unknown to us. As soon as you would start, though, you would stop and collapse back into an untouchable sleep."

"Sometimes," Padre Perez added. "We would find you strewn about the room, sometimes with mess, others with not. It was quite curious, unlike anything I've seen or heard about."

"How did you—How did I get here? How did we—"

"Aldonza!" Pedro gasped as the door flung open. "Oh, Praise God—you're alive, mi gato, you're alive!" He fell to his knees as he gripped her weak hand, nuzzling it against his cleanly shaven face and pressing a multitude of kisses to it.

"Pedro." She murmured with all of the strength she possessed. The name flowed easily from her throat, the first tangible thing she had said in days. "Si, mi novio, I am here." She gazed down at him, at his washed hair and skin, his new clothes, his scarred arms. "Come here." Pedro obediently stood next to her, teary eyes fixing an adoring look on hers.

"Join us when you can for supper." The Padre told them as he stood, exiting the room as the Sisters followed behind, turning around with anxious glances at the reunited lovers. "We'll give you some privacy."

"Gracias." Pedro murmured absentmindedly, unable to tear his eyes away from Aldonza. She willed her lips to turn into a smile, the muscles stiff from lack of use, lack of tangible life.

"Come." Aldonza murmured, a sudden need overtaking her as she carefully shifter her body, her weight, to the side. "I need you close to me."

Pedro cautiously eased himself onto the mattress, moving with deliberate motions as he situated himself around her fragile form. With great ease, he enveloped an arm underneath her so that she was pulled securely into him, her heated breaths tickling his throat with the reminder, the miracle, that she was alive. Large tears rolled down his face as he slowly shook with tears. It was contagious, and soon the two of them were holding each other, crying into one another as they expressed happiness, sorrow, and mutual shock at what had happened so recently and yet so long ago. "I thought I lost you," Pedro murmured with a treacherously devastated voice. "I thought I lost you and I was never, ever going to be able to tell you goodbye. Or that I loved you. Love you." He clarified, placing the softest of kisses against her forehead.

"You didn't lose me, mi amor." Aldonza whispered with strength. "I am right here."

Pedro nodded, his locks tickling her cheeks, her neck, her ears. "I know." He murmured, smiling as he joined one of his hands with hers, placing it over her tummy. "I know you are. But you—you don't understand. I had to wait. I had to walk the path with the devil as he told me hideous, awful things. I almost—I almost believed him." He confessed, nuzzling his face into her cheek as if to hide from his demons.

"But you didn't." She told him reassuringly, though not understanding.

"It was by God's grace that we made it here." Pedro stated quietly. "I didn't know where else to go. We were surrounded, staring Death in the eyes. We were a lost cause, Aldonza, they wanted us dead. You remember, don't you?" Pedro didn't wait for an answer as he continued, staring ruefully into the sheets as he remembered the gory details that forced them to flee. "And then we were fighting—and by God's mercy we were winning. He provided us light so that we could see the road to life, and Anselmo helped us get there. He distracted them, and I was able to carry you far enough away until we were able to mount a burrow. I should have passed out, mi gato, I should have—we should have—died. But we didn't. We are here and we are safe."

"Others died for us." Aldonza murmured gravely, swallowing deeply as a wave of vicious emotion threatened to choke her already raw throat.

Pedro met her eyes and nodded solemnly, rubbing her head and shoulders and neck as she slowly sunk into him. "What happened to Anselmo?" She dared to question, unable to meet his eyes for fear of the answer, the flicker of emotion, the flicker of light that could possibly be diminished.

Clearing his throat, Pedro let a dark, nervous chuckle escaped his strain throat. "I don't know."

Aldonza nodded sadly, pursing her lips to stop the flow of questions from escaping. This was overwhelming not only to her but to Pedro, and together they were a mix of information and a tangle of desire for not only each other, but for knowledge of what had happened, what was happening and what was going to happen. "You're clean." She stated simply, tracing his arm with her fingertip.

Pedro shook with an unsuspecting laugh. "Si. The Sisters and Padre are very kind. I was able to go into town with their courtesy and purchase some new clothes. I—I bought some for you, too." He told her intimately. "In case we should ever get to this point. They told me not to count on it, but I prayed for you, mi gato. Night and day, I asked God to not let you slip through His fingers. They told me I was mad, that there was no way—and yet, you're here."

Aldonza brought his eyes up to his and simply stared, basking in the pleasure of being able to see him, to physically view him and realize that it was happening, it was real, it was tangible. She hadn't a clue what she would do if he had been taken from her as well. In her mind, life was not worth living without him, without her gleam of sunshine, without her purpose. "I would like that." She told him in a weak voice. "Will you help me?"

Pedro nodded purposefully, carefully helping her from the bed and to the door. She leaned against him, her feet barely moving across the floor as they walked slowly, deliberately, with an eased piece of mind that they at least had each other throughout this unexpected hardship. Reaching the private bathhouse, Pedro nudged open the door and helped Aldonza into the cavernous room. With strong, gentle hands he helped her out of her nightgown that was still caked with blood, of gruesome reminders on why they were here in the first place. Her exposed skin shivered at the contact of naked air, and only when she was lowered into the warm, steamy water did she relax, seeming to melt into the water with ease, comfort, and lack of conscious thought. Slipping in next to her, Pedro began to wash her arms, her legs, her stomach and neck and face and hair until she was gleaming, radiating renewed, fresh beauty. She adhered herself to him as her arms tangled around his neck. With ease she brought her lips forward, kissing him gently, passionately, thankfully. She seemed to grow stronger in his presence, with each touch and caress and stroke that he placed against her, into her being.

Emerging from the water, Pedro helped Aldonza into a new skirt and shirt, the silky fabric foreign against her spotless skin. "This is too much." She muttered in disbelief, staring down at the expensive fabric. It was the nicest thing she had ever seen, let alone touch, own.

"No," Pedro sighed, reaching into his pocket as he fingered a gold chain. "But this might be." He ambled around her and, with steady fingers, clasped the gold necklace around her neck. It tickled the hollow of her neck and seemed to radiate against her skin. "It's a diamond chip." He told her, watching her fingers stroke the shiny, untarnished metal. "It symbolizes that even the roughest, hardest things in life can—with love and gentleness—be transformed into something lovely, lovable."


	12. Chapter 12

"Aldonza?" A voice hummed softly through the door, a light knock ticking its surface. "May I come in?"

Aldonza shifted at the noise, tired eyes shifting open through sticky, caked-on sleep as she slowly twisted out of Pedro's bare arms. He was still sleeping, his scruff-free face smooth without the worries of their new situation, of the struggles that accompanied everyday life, of her. With a consenting call, Padre Perez opened the door with steady hands, gentle eyes meeting the confused ones of the waking woman. "Ahh, buenas dias." He greeted in a cheerful whisper. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything." He stated simply, knowing yet nonjudgmental eyes surveying the young woman and her assumed lover, at his bare body, at hers covered with thin, cheap cloth.

"No, no." Aldonza told him hurriedly, with a good nature laugh that seemed foreign to her tongue. She peered out the window and sat up, examining the dawn that was just beginning to break over the horizon, enveloping its old friend in a reuniting embrace. "I guess it's time to start the day, hmm?" She asked, placing her hands on the mattress and slowly lifting, moving her recovering body with deliberate movements, calculated steps. She steadied herself against the wooden bureau and began to wash her face, glancing back at the Padre through the mirror as she politely asked, "And what is it that I can do to help?"

The Padre offered her a compassionate smile. "Bring yourself and your guest—" He motioned to Pedro's form, which was slowly rising with the steady pulse of deep sleep—"to breakfast at approximately 7AM."

Drying off her face with a plush towel, Aldonza turned to face him, her features rearranging to a look of confusion. "But what about breakfast?" She asked in an unusually high pitch. "Who's going to collect the eggs, fry the potatoes, butcher the chicken for supper? I am more than willing to help, Padre, I am growing stronger with every passing day."

"And we offer our lives to God as praise for this miracle." He responded, motioning to the heavens as he ambled towards her. "In our house, the guests will be treated as such. Breakfast, lunch—all of your meals are taken and will be taken care of. The children of God never go hungry, as they are always receiving the gift of life from their Father." He nodded to her with conclusive finality and turned to leave, his dark robes flowing softly behind him, like the whispered prayer of a child.

"Padre?" Aldonza stammered a little too loudly. She hurried towards him and caught his shoulder as his hand held onto the doorknob. "What can I—we—do to ever repay you? You—you saved our lives." She told him, shielding her eyes to the ground as she remembered the pain, the suffering, the near death experience that had forced them to leave, that was the sole reason they were here, that she was here, that she was alive.

A tiny grin formed on the old man's face, and he brought his own hand up to cover the young woman's that was resting on his shoulder. "Live your life for God." Padre Perez responded purely, the grin growing larger when her mocha eyes expanded with realization. "You were saved for a reason, young one. It is best to glorify your Father with your life, because it wasn't an accident that you defeated death, just like it wasn't an accident for Christ to rise from the dead, to defeat the odds." He gently turned, causing Aldonza's hand to float to her side as she stood rooted to the spot. "7 o'clock for breakfast."

Even as the door closed, Aldonza remained rooted to the spot, unable to deflect the current of thought that was flooding through her mind like harsh rays of revealing sun. The world continued to wake around her. The songs of rousing birds floated through the open window as sunlight inched through until it was streaming into the pale room, reflecting against Pedro's tan skin, his dark locks, his defined, tranquil muscles. Why had she been saved? It was a question that had haunted her ever since she had come to, realized that she had indeed been inches away from death, hanging with near fatality on its noose; she had been waiting for the blow, for the final tug where she would stop breathing and feel her soul crumple inside of her like tissue paper. She had been internally waiting for this moment for years, for when her breath would cease to flow, when she could taste the stale air that suddenly wasn't as nourishing, as helpful, as vital. Was there a reason she was still alive, or was it simply luck, simply a switch that had been switched fully to the on position rather than somewhere in the middle, somewhere in limbo or jeopardy? Was there a purpose to her life? And if there was, what could it possibly be?

"Interesting view against the back of the door?" Pedro's voice pierced the air in a burst of sound, causing Aldonza to startle and almost fall to the floor. "Because I'm getting quite the view." Slowly turning towards him, Aldonza smiled softly. "Good morning, mi gato." He murmured softly, stretching out his bare arms and torso towards her while extending his needy eyes to meet hers, latching on like a lasso. With measured tread, the young woman carefully sat on the edge of the bed before turning into him, laying on her side before being enveloped in his arms.

"We have breakfast at 7 o'clock." She murmured into the base of his neck as he littered her softened hair with kisses. "But we can't do anything." Aldonza said this almost dejectedly, as if her purpose had been cut.

"What do you mean we can't do anything?" Pedro asked her, cupping her hand softly in his rough palms. "We can do lots of things. We can do—" he told her in between kisses, "anything we want."

She smiled against his lips though pulled away with a soft smack, her hands tangling in his long locks. "We can't help with anything in the kitchen, for breakfast." She clarified with slight sass. "He said they have it under control."

Pedro nodded absentmindedly, wiggling his nose until a soft giggle was escaping from Aldonza's strengthening form. "What are we going to do, Pedro?" She questioned in an almost inaudible voice.

His eyebrows slanted with seriousness at this question and he instinctually pulled her closer to him, securing her in his strong arms. "We can't go back. At least—" He interjected through her protests. "Not now. Later, maybe," He considered with sharpened severity. "But not now. It's too dangerous." He played distractedly with the hem of her new nightgown, fingering the stiff fabric and wooden buttons.

"Where are we going to do?" Aldonza asked, her eyes watching inquisitively as Pedro fingered the buttons open, staring at the nape of her neck and working his way until her sternum was exposed, the fabric falling just before the beginning of her milky breasts. With a shaky finger he traced the letters that had been carved into the skin with torturous, fatal intents. W. H. O. R. E. As he traced over each letter, his lips continuously formed a deeper grimace until he lips were furrowed, his eyes crinkled with anger, his nose twitching without conscious control.

"We will have to go back." Pedro murmured as he removed his finger from the enflamed, reddened skin. "So I can kill them that did this to you. To us."

"And your brother?" Aldonza questioned in a tiny voice. "We'll rescue him." She patted his shoulder and felt the tense muscle, the unworked fibers straining with harsh pressure underneath her calming touch. "Pedro?" She questioned, searching for the spark in his eyes that seemed to be frozen in thought. "Pedro? He's—he's alive, mi amor. He has to be. If he could save us—he could save himself."

"He thinks he's invincible." Pedro muttered in a stealthy whisper.

"And what if he is?" Aldonza asked him with a growing passion that seemed to stem from her stomach. "Who did he learn everything from?" She asked him softly, though without wavering. "From whom did he learn how to fight? To woo women? To farm and plant and wrangle livestock? Pedro," She exclaimed with admiration, with confidence. "He learned it from you. And you—you taught him damn well. He is the reason we're even alive! You know that the best out of the two of us, as I'm still fighting to retrieve memories, conversations. But you have to believe, if not for your sake for mine, that he is there, and will be grateful to us for the rest of his time on Earth for saving him just like he saved us. Comprendo?" She stared into his lightening eyes; they were like black coffee, which had creamer poured into it as it shifted, expanded, changed the color and taste of the before dark and murky liquid.

Slowly, Pedro nodded, and was soon hovering over her, gentle hands caressing her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders as his lips danced with hers. His fingers lazily worked on the buttons of her nightgown until it was lying in a white heap on the floor. Her figure rose to meet his, and she seemed to gain physical strength from his presence, from the friction of his lips against hers, from the energy that sparked between them and filled the room with the subtle yet exclaiming tone of love, daunting hope and the curious impossibilities of the future.

"Señor Antonin?" A female voice drifted into the room. The light creak the door sounded, following a high-pitched squeal of surprise. "Oh! Oh, my goodness!" Sister Maria called out, turning away and shielding her eyes from the two occupants of the room. "I am tremendously sorry to have had the unfortunate—I'd like to extend my most sincere apologies—I'm sorry!" She exclaimed as Pedro clambered off of Aldonza and climbed into a pair of pants. Aldonza covered herself with a thick blanket and pretended to disappear, a harsh blush covering her body like an infectious rash.

"Sister, what is it you came for?" Pedro asked her, approaching the door with his strong, solid figure that blocked the view of the room from her humiliated eyes.

"Breakfast." Sister Maria murmured, unable to meet his gaze. Pedro extended a hand on her shoulder and lured him to her eyes, which were sloped south with gentle apologies, pleas of acceptance. "The Padre requests your presence. And—" She noticed his half-clothed form and seemed to ease incredibly. "I was told to assist you with anything you might need this morning."

"I think we've got it taken care of." Pedro replied with an amused grin, patting Sister Maria's shoulder with the gentlest of movements. "Mais, gracias. We will join you in a few moments—let us clean up, make ourselves presentable."

Sister Maria nodded and quickly scurried away, mumbling about love and the sanctity of the church and marriage between the sexually active. Pedro retreated into the room, closing the door with a soft click before ambling to the bed. Lightly lifting the blanket from her naked form, he let it slip through his fingers, landing in a pool of milky fabric on the floor. With tender hands he picked her up, bringing her to his chest. "I think we can live proudly having say we've made a nun blush." He told her with an amused laugh. "What do you say, mi gato?"

She nodded against his chest before extending her legs, setting herself down as she twisted out of his arms and into a newly-bought dress. It covered her shoulders and fell just above her ankles, patterned in tiny aqua birds against an ocean of heather grey. "You never answered my question." Aldonza exclaimed as she brushed through her soft curls. "Where are we going to go?"

Pedro joined her at the basin, staring into the mirror as he ran a comb through his dark locks. "I can find a job in town." He told her confidently. "I am good with livestock, with farming, anything involving physical labor. I can work until we have enough money to buy supplies, before we set out to El Tobozo to take back what's ours."

Aldonza thought about this when she turned the strange metal tube, applying lipstick in a form that wasn't a mound of rusty red clay to her chapped, healing lips. "And after El Tobozo? Assuming—you know, that we're alive."

"I don't know." Pedro responded truthfully. "Wherever the road may lead us. There is one thing I'm confident about," He told her as he offered her arm, helped her towards the door and through the hallway. "As long as I am with you, I am home. I am safe. I am okay, I am alive in more than just the physical sense. I am the richest man in the world when I am in your presence, let alone your arms, your lips."

The two entered the eating quarters that gave way to a large table, which was covered in different plates. Eggs, tortillas, peppers, potatoes, juice, rice, fruit and beans covered the table in respective containers. Padre Perez was seated at the head of the long table; on either side of the table, closest to the Padre, were empty seats, with Sister Maria and Julia sitting on the adjacent sides. Pedro helped Aldonza into her seat before settling down in his own. "Let us pray, now that we are in the company of everyone." He murmured pointedly, though with kind intentions. "Our Father, who art in heaven, I would like to take a moment to thank you for our two guests. May they find comfort and solace in our presence so that we might show them hospitality that reflects your great love, acceptance and plans of and for your people. Help us to understand with clear minds their trials and tribulations as we help them on the right path, the only one, dear God—your path. Help us to love those who we deem unlovable and to serve anyone and all in your heavenly name. Amen."

Plates were passed and the music of clanking silverware on fine china filled the room. Polite banter was made, juice was revealed, questions were asked. "Aldonza," The Padre began politely, tucking his napkin underneath his plate as he pushed the cleared china away from him. "Tell us, where are you from?"

Clearing her throat with nervous surprise, she responded, "I am from El Tobozo."

"And what did you do there?"

"I—" She glanced at Pedro, who nodded encouragingly. "I worked as a kitchen servant, mainly, at my f-f-father's inn." She stammered on the surname for her beloved, at the loss that was still—and infinitely would—take a toll on her.

"And how did you and Pedro meet?" Sister Julia questioned with prying interest.

"My group of men—coincidently, the two who attempted to kill us were a part of it," Pedro began, saving Aldonza from the explanation of what she really did for a living. "We were passing through El Tobozo on the way for work. It was there that I met Aldonza and we became—familiar with one another." He finished, smiling politely as he dismissed himself to his glass of juice. "We fell in love, " He continued, staring across the table with moony eyes at Aldonza. "And we knew that no matter what, nothing—not even death—could truly separate us."

Sister Maria smiled politely, barely meeting Pedro's eyes out of rampant embarrassment from the last time she had seen him.

"Well, it is certainly a pleasure to have the two of you here." Padre Perez stated with proud excitement. "We may not live lavishly, but we are thankful for what the Father has given us."

"Thank you." Aldonza told him, touching his hand with gratitude. "You have saved our lives, truly, Father."

He looked at her inquisitively, a smile touching his eyes. "You have the power to save lives yourself. You both do." He added, glancing at Pedro as an idea seemed to strike him. "You are certainly welcome to stay for as much time as you need," He told them, shifting in his chair. "But in the meantime, would you be interested in our disciple program?" At their inquisitive looks, the Padre launched into a full-scale explanation. "Every other night, the Sisters and I travel the streets and find those who are down on their luck, who are prostitutes, who are blind or suffering from unbearable diseases—who are experiencing unkind situations in the world by either their own choice or by their situation—and bring them to the church. We give them bread and wine, teach them the Gospel, help them return to what we believe and know to be true.

"It is an ideal way to experience Christ's love first hand by helping others in his image. If you are interested," He told them as the Sisters rose and gathered the empty plates, taking them into the kitchen. "Please, join us tomorrow evening. It is now time for mass, and I do require our guests to attend."

"Thank you, Father." Aldonza exclaimed as she gathered a few plates and hurried them into the kitchen.

"You're welcome, my child." The Padre replied, gesturing for Pedro to approach him. "Pedro Antonin." He stated, elongating them name as he motioned for him to follow him to the temple. "I may be a holy man, but I was not born yesterday. Are you aware of Aldonza's… situation?" He questioned, nodding when he received the answer he had expected from Pedro. "So it is your duty as a Godly man to try and lead her in the right direction, no?" He asked before firing off another question. "And to not be married… is that in God's will for you?"

Pedro narrowed his eyes in thought as he listened to the Padre. "Be careful, my son." He exclaimed roughly. "We don't tolerate sinning, especially in the holy offices of the church. Either clean up your act and your woman—" He pointed a strong finger against his chest as he lowered his greying eyes. "Or you'll no longer be allowed to enjoy the hospitality of the Holy Catholic Church." With a grim smile, the wizened Father ambled alone into the temple, leaving Pedro in a darkened hallway to think about just what they were going to do to manipulate their current situation into something they wanted, something that fit.


	13. Chapter 13

"Well, Julia, it's ludicrous to think that we've never had guests who haven't been… like her." Maria mused, plunging her hands into the soapy water as she scrubbed daintily at the fine china.

"I suppose," Julia sighed, rolling her eyes with a judgmental sweep of her murky brown eyes. "The others simply haven't been as… defined."

"Defined?" The sweet voice of Maria questioned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well haven't you seen her?" Julia questioned in an incredulous tone. It was a sneer, a mock, and Aldonza could almost see her lip curving above her teeth in a wild display of animalism. "Why do you think she came to us beaten? And with that nasty word on her neck—do you think just any woman receives that? No." She clucked her tongue and began to dry the dishes before stacking them into various cabinets.

"She needs to be here." Maria stated simply. "She needs to confess her sins and receive God's holy forgiveness."

"She needs to live by his rules." Julia snippily replied. "Did you hear her with that man? It was nasty, vile—and very loud."

"I saw them." Maria told her in a near whisper; Aldonza had to strain against the door to catch her words, her hushed tone.

"You _what?" _Julia exclaimed in an excited hiss.

"I saw them," Maria repeated. Aldonza pictured her dropping the dish she was currently scrubbing and grabbing her friend's shoulders, gripping them with the excitement of a schoolgirl as they traded gossip in a contest to see who could dig up the juiciest dirt. "He was hunched over her, and she wasn't wearing any clothes. He only had on pants, and he was kissing her."

"No." Julia shook her head with finality. "No, no, there's no way that happened."

"But there is, it did!" Maria told her, returning reluctantly to the task at hand. "I saw it, Julia."

"No." Julia told her sternly. "There's no way. You want to know why?" Her mischievous green eyes met hers and seemed to glow with a sense of greed. "It couldn't have happened that he was over her, that he was kissing her, because she's a whore—a filthy slut who will sleep with anyone with a penis for a mere half a shilling. She's not to be trusted, Maria. She shouldn't be here. The Padre has taken in some deviants before, but never like this."

Maria considered this and shook her head sadly. "But Jesus associated with… with people like her." She exclaimed with a little more vigor. "Why can't we pick up the cross and join him? She clearly needs our help, Julia."

"Help? And what can we do for her?" The latter retorted.

"We… We can teach her the Christian way through ministry. You heard her at the table, she's going to help us with the program—she's going to become a disciple."

Julia thought about this and clucked her tongue a few times with loud, tight clicks. "Well, I'll believe it when I see it."

Aldonza shrugged her way through the door, her blushing cheeks accentuated by smooth curls. Her insides were fiery, the passion hidden behind her eyes from their hate-filled comments, while her face remained calm, even serene. "Here are some more plates." She told the two Sisters, who stared snidely at each other with mild embarrassment at having possibly been overheard. "Do you need any help?" She stared at the two women, mocha eyes moving from one pair of innocent eyes to the other.

Sister Maria cleared her throat and stepped forward, addressing Aldonza personally with a gentle smile. "No, no dear, that's quite alright." She told her, placing a caressing hand on her shoulder. "We are nearly finished, anyways. But, thank you, anyways." She stepped backwards as Aldonza slowly turned to exit the kitchen with deliberate, aggravated steps. How dare these women—who were supposed to be ones of God, ones who didn't possess a judging bone in their body—have the nerve to pass judgment on her when they hadn't even hardly spoken to her? Had they saved her life? Yes and no. They had taken care of her, or at least that's what she had been told. But through the care process, the bathing, the cleaning up after—had all of it been committed with hateful intentions, or, at the minimum, judgmental actions?

"Sister Julia?" Aldonza turned around with a questioning stare. "Can you hand me the jar from the shelf labeled 'Jalapeños?'"

The Sister turned to the shelf and skimmed the line of jars and canisters, searching with a shaky finger through the labels. "We don't have a jar labeled 'jalapeños,' dear." She told her. "So sorry."

"Oh, are you sure?" Aldonza questioned, moving towards the counter to look for herself. "Oh, wait. I wonder—" She opened a jar with skinny, dark pepper spears and took one out. Biting into it with a crisp tear, she licked her lips and tasted the flavor. "Ahh," She exclaimed, closing the jar before placing it back on the shelf. "This jar," She told the sisters with a snarky tone. "Is labeled as 'habanero' while they are actually jalapeños. So you see—" She took a single step forward as she addressed the two women, who were standing with rigid, surprised tension. "It appears that not everything is labeled—" She motioned towards her exposed sternum, where the degrading word was permanently scarred, "—as it actually is. You might want to look into that, to make sure, you know, that you have accuracy instead of faulty guesswork." She narrowed her eyes as she stared at the two sisters before striding past them, head held high. "See you in mass."

Aldonza stalked out of the kitchen and into the courtyard, winding her way through the gardens until she was sitting on the edge of a marble fountain. She gazed up at the statue of Mother Mary, who was serenely greeting her with blank, perfectly-chiseled eyes and a heavenly smile. Gazing into the crystal water, Aldonza stared at her distorted figure. It was spread out, large against the liquidy surface, and although it was clear, defined enough to distinguish certain features, it wasn't telling of the real her, of the details that made up who she was. Perhaps, she thought to herself quietly as she dunked a bare toe into the water, this was how the Sisters saw her. They were able to distinguish that she was a person, that she was made of flesh and bone and sin just like every other creature that walked the earth. However, the part that they failed to see were the color of her eyes, her dark curls, sundrenched skin, the scars that littered her body. They failed to see her because they failed to recognize the very parts—the intimate characterizations—that distinguished her from any other mass of flesh with working arms, legs, limbs.

She swished her toe around in the cool water, diluting the shape and form of her reflected figure until it was slowly settling back into place. A mass appeared in the water next to her reflection and she felt strong hands settle gently on her shoulders. "What are you doing here?" Pedro questioned gently as he settled next to her, arms still intertwined around her neck. "I thought you would be with the others."

"Who?" Aldonza questioned, leaning into his embrace. "Sister Maria and Sister Julia? They… they had everything under control, believe me." She exclaimed with a soft yet bitter tone.

Pedro choked on a tiny cough, and Aldonza could almost feel the smirk forming against his lips. "What does the kitty not like about them?" He asked in an unfairly seductive voice, his lips pressing against her ear as he mumbled softly. "Are you having trouble fitting in with the holy ones? That rat meeting the kitties?"

"The other way around!" Aldonza exclaimed with too much vigor. "Pedro, I know they are women of God, but—" She turned around to face him, nestling her knees underneath her, "—they don't live out their faithfulness."

Pedro's eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. "I don't understand what you're saying, mi gato."

Aldonza sighed roughly and pierced his eyes with a fierce gaze. "I overheard them in the kitchen, after you and the Padre left. They were talking about me, Pedro! They were—they were saying… Well, it doesn't matter what they were saying."

"Yes it does." Pedro replied instantly, without conscious thought. "If they're being nasty—if they're plotting—it's best to catch them while they're at it instead of when we're being driven out by ignorance. Are they going to hurt you?" His tone scared the young woman with its sheer ferociousness, its passion that was laced with intentions to kill if necessary.

"It's nothing I haven't heard," Aldonza stated sadly in a quiet, dejected yet determined voice. "It was the usual bout of words… whore, slut, invalid… They were apparently appalled that we were sharing a bed and exchanging tokens of love under the holy roof." She rolled her eyes as she finished, nuzzling into his shoulder, her head pressing against his set jaw, his quivering chin.

"The holy ones are frauds," He murmured to himself. "If Padre Perez knew…"  
"They would be let off the hook." Aldonza told him as the scorching afternoon sun beat down on them. "They would be told to reevaluate their lives according to God's will, and BAM!—back in business."

"Well then," Pedro murmured, rubbing her back as she scooted closer to him, her soft curls tangling in his lips. "Why can't we have the same treatment, hmm? We are all sinners, everyone in this damned world. We are the reason, after all, that Christ Jesus died, was crucified and resurrected. We need the chance to be able to repent and save ourselves from this deadly life we live, right? Or am I mad, insane, touched in the head for believing so?" He scoffed sarcastically as his grip tightened around her.

"You are not touched, Señor." A wizened voice replied as he approached the fountain from the opposite side. Aldonza leapt from Pedro's lap and shifted her eyes downward, adjusting her skirt and hair with self-consciousness.

"Padre Perez!" Pedro exclaimed, standing to greet the Father. "We were just discussing your kind hospitality."

"Si. Gracias, Padre." Aldonza murmured, barely glancing up to meet his eyes as she pulled her shirt higher up on her shoulders.

"Ahh, my children," The Padre told them as he sat on the edge of the fountain, motioning for them to do the same. "It is the least I can do to help the children of Christ in need. We all face trials and tribulations, and it is not our place to judge the situations of others. That, my friends, is left to the Almighty Father. Instead of judging, we must encourage each other to live wholesome, respectable lives. We must aim to not only live like Christ, but also with him." He nodded to Pedro and then Aldonza, shifting his focus so that he could catch her pointed eyes. "Mi hija," He exclaimed tenderly, leaning towards her. "What is wrong?"

At these words—_mi hija _—Aldonza curled into herself, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Silent tremors shook her frame as her sorrow trembled inside her, made her fists clench, her nose drip, her lips crack into a deep frown. The Padre glanced to Pedro with an innocent look and a question mark hanging over his head. "The innkeeper," Pedro mumbled quietly as he rubbed his lover's back soothingly. "Was like her father figure. He took her in at her toughest time, was her only family; the two were very close. He used to call her by that name as well, _mi hija_; it caught her attention as much as her real name. I would imagine," He exclaimed with a miserable sigh. "That trigger words and phrases will be pretty painful for a while."

Padre Perez shifted his lips until they formed a thin frown. "Aldonza," He murmured with the pressure of a soft coo. "I am tremendously sorry. Had I known this would make you so upset—and rightfully so," He added, standing from the well until his arm was wrapped around her sobbing frame. She turned and cried into him, her shaking figure pressed against his as his fatherly arms wrapped around her protectively. "Shhh," He cooed softly, pushing her hair out of her eyes and behind her ears. "He is in a better place now. He is walking with Christ." Aldonza nodded into his chest, internally knowing that he was right and all-knowing but externally, in her selfish, human ways, she was unable to accept the fact that her father was dead, and was by her own hand.

"Padre?" Pedro questioned softly. "Can we have mass out here? Right now?" He glanced down at Aldonza's lame form and back into the soothing eyes of the Padre.

Padre Perez returned his gaze and nodded calmly. "Si, Hermano Pedro. Aldonza?" He softly yet purposely gripped Aldonza's shoulders until she was looking into his eyes. "Will you each pray with me?" At their consenting nods, the Padre bowed his head and began to pray in a gentle chant. "Our Heavenly God, Our Father, Our Beloved—I pray that you bless and watch over our guests, our new family. Help them to realize what it means to live a holy life of dedication to you, your son, Christ Jesus and to the Holy Spirit, which resides in each and every one of us." He placed a steady hand on Aldonza's shoulders and rubbed gently, soothingly, with the politeness of a priest and the warming affection of a father. "We have all faced trials in our earthly lives, as they, unlike the ones awaiting us in heaven, are full of pain, unfair situations and disgusting happenings. Some of our trials have been rooted in our past, others have scarred the present and, inevitably, we will have many that will greet us in our future. I only pray that you, Heavenly Father, help us face these trials, these hardships, these times of danger and heartache and hate with the love and gentleness you have bestowed on your gracious followers. Help us to lead others to your love through our words and actions, and help us to live lives of followers and beggars instead of those of the rich and wealthy. Help us to be rich and abundant in grace and love instead of Earthly treasures. In your son, Jesus Christ's, name we pray to you, Heavenly Father—Amen."

"Amen." Aldonza repeated with a heavy heart.

"Amen." Pedro repeated, squinting his eyes in concentration as he internally dedicated himself to a holier lifestyle, to Aldonza.

"Now, children." The Padre exclaimed, stroking the crucifix that hung languidly around his neck. "We should head back to the Cathedral. The Sisters will be wondering what happened to the afternoon mass, yes?" A slight laugh escaped him as he slowly stood and turned to his guests. "After mass we will have a small supper before departing on our first disciple missionary, in the city of La Merced. Shall we go?" He motioned for Aldonza and Pedro to follow him, to physically stand and figuratively pick up their crosses and follow the Father. With a knowing nod to each other, Aldonza and Pedro stood and followed until they were reaching the courtyard.

"Padre!" Sister Maria exclaimed with great relief. "We thought something had happened."

"No, Sister." Padre Perez replied with a gentle chortle. "I was merely spending some time with our guests, learning more about them. Please, go and wash up before mass and supper."

Aldonza and Pedro grabbed hands and began to make their way into the Cathedral. "Oh, Aldonza?" Sister Julia called out, causing the young woman to turn around. "I took the liberty of moving your belongings to a new room, on the opposite side of the living quarters." She fixed a beady stare on Pedro before sweeping her eyes to the young woman. "I hope you don't mind. In your journey with Christ, I pray that you are able to see the glory in this." She smiled venomously before engaging the Padre in chat about the upcoming mass.


	14. Chapter 14

Aldonza pushed her way through the door with a scowl and a glint of determination lodged in her murky eyes. "Can you believe the nerve of some people?" She barked as Pedro turned to face her, surprised and amused at the level of her rising emotions.

"I thought you weren't allowed in here?" He questioned with mock innocence. "Shouldn't you get out before the Sisters find you and report you to the Padre?" Pedro snaked his strong arms around her, clasping his hands on the opposite side of her waist.

The young woman was already fumbling with his rope belt and shoving him onto the raised mattress. "Danger turns me on." She growled into his ear as she pulled at his pants, causing him to emit a low roar of his own. Leaning down over his defined frame, she began to litter his neck, cheeks, nose with kisses, purposely missing his lips as they puckered in the air, searching for hers with desperate need.

"The Sisters, though…" Pedro whined as Aldonza removed his pants and then his shirt, snaking a flattened hand against the defined planes of his chest, the dark wiry hair that trailed down his abdomen.

"Don't think about the Sisters when you're with me." She snarled, pulling away from his face and curling her lip above her viciously-exposed teeth. "Don't you know who I am? What you're doing? 'I'm no one, Pedro! I'm nothing! I'm only Aldonza—the great and filthy whore!'" She mocked the Sisters in a high-pitched voice, rolling her eyes and shaking her hair in front of her so that it partially covered her now exposed chest. Pedro brought his hands up to her neck, physically pulling her down until she was hunched over him, legs spread on either side of his lower torso. He gripped her hips, rolled his own until they were colliding with hers, like the waves of the ocean meeting the shore with steady rhythm.

"You're something, Aldonza." Pedro looked up at her with an honest gaze, nodding to her when she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, so you've heard, too?" The young woman retorted with another round of sarcasm. She grabbed his hand and forced it to smack against her sternum with an open palm. "You see what they did to me, don't you? It's not just me—or the Sisters—who see it? No, it's not, because those bastards—" She could barely hiss out the names. "Juan and Paco—they made sure that everyone in this whole damned earth could see who I truly am." She fumbled out of her skirt, their two exposed bodies blending into one another as she situated herself again on his lap, feet curled neatly underneath her. "Come, Pedro, get with it! The Sisters certainly have—they've exposed me for who I really am!" She shook her upper torso, mounds of caramel breast slapping into one another as the stretched, scarred skin that spelled the degrading word remained still.

Forcing herself on top of him, she searched for his lips, though she was suddenly turning, being flipped until she was on her back. Pedro towered over her with a dominating air. "See, you're getting with it." Aldonza muttered darkly, staring up at him with wide, angry eyes. "Come on. Do it." She challenged, waving her hands forward. "Screw me. Everyone else screws me over—why not you, too?"

"What has come over my kitty cat?" Pedro questioned in an unfairly deep, seductive voice. It had the power to wash over Aldonza, twist its way through her ears until it was undoing the wiring of her brain, the strings to her heart. "Why are you so self-conscious? Why are you letting two batty old ladies get to you?"

"Me? Self-conscious?" Aldonza sneered, laughing until she was curled double underneath him. "To them?" She choked through coughs of laughter. "You're drunk."

"And you're being ridiculous." Pedro exclaimed with a rough tone. "I may not know what you're going through right now, Aldonza, but I can damn well try to understand. I do know one thing, though—and that it's to always call things by what they are."

"Oh, really?" Aldonza murmured, cocking a fine eyebrow into the air. "So why don't you? Come on, mi amor, it's easy—like me. You need to just murmur it and I am yours, will melt like butter into you. Say it, please—puta. Bitch. Whore. You'd like that, hmm, what you've been denied? What you've been craving? The natural touch of a woman for you, the clinking of money in my hands for me." She purred into his ear, nibbling on the edges with playful ferocity.

"Aldonza, stop!" Pedro growled, forcibly pushing her into the mattress.

"Ooh, kitty can be fierce!" She replied, curving her hands like claws.

"I don't want you if you can't see yourself for what you really are!" Pedro bellowed severely, moving to climb off of the young woman.

Aldonza sat up, grabbing his hips so that he would stay and stroking a single finger down the plains of his chest, the curve of his stomach. "Wait, wait." She murmured softly with simple seriousness. "What's going on?" She stared up at him, trying to catch his pointedly turned eyes. "Pedro?" She questioned, leaning up to set her chin on his firm shoulder.

"I can't stand to hear you call yourself those… those names." He growled quietly, fists clenching at his sides. "Because I know you are so much more." Aldonza's eyes crinkled in confusion at these words, though she grabbed one of his hands and tangled it with her own.

"I don't know." She muttered almost inaudibly, like a prayer. "Tell me."

"You're not a whore." Pedro stated reverently, shifting his eyes until they were lost in hers, searching, like a bird told to soar the entire sky in one evening. "You are a woman. You are passionate, fiery, beautiful. You give me a purpose; I am living not only for you, but because of you, mi amor." He leaned into her and mumbled into her ear with a hushed whisper, "You are not a whore because you are committing yourself to one man, to me—tell me I am the only one for you, Aldonza. Tell me that even though you have been in dark times—" He stroked the gold, diamond chip necklace around her neck, fingering it with gentleness. "—you have come out of them stronger, with a new, radiant beauty."

Aldonza stared into his olive eyes with a slack-jawed gaze, a doughy face. "You are the only one for me, Pedro Antonin." She told him, bringing her hands up to caress his now scruffy face. "I only want you. And while I can't make any promises—" She began, grabbing his other hand so that she could grip both of them tightly in her own.

"Why can't you?" He questioned pointedly, with a desperate tone. "Why can't you promise me that I am your one and only now that we're away from El Tobozo?" He looked around him wildly, his wild locks flinging through his own personal wind. "You are wanting nothing here! You have everything provided! You don't have to sell yourself to make a living any more. So why can't I be it, Aldonza? Why are you holding back from me?"

"It's all I've ever known." Aldonza told him softly, unable to meet his longing eyes.

"And you're afraid." Pedro stated. It was nonjudgmental. It was not a question. "You're afraid to lose everything you've known because you've already lost the one who started it all for you." He murmured as the puzzle pieces slowly slid together. The young woman nodded against him, collapsing into his arms and nuzzling into his chest. "You know, it's okay to be afraid." He told her, gripping onto her bare shoulders, watching the pressure build in his nail beds until they were pink. "We're all afraid. That's why," Pedro hummed against her hair as his chin rested atop her dark locks. "I want you to realize your importance, so that it—the bright and shining light—might radiate through your fears, help you navigate the winding path of life. I love you, Aldonza—I just want you to love me back. I want to be the only one, so that I can commit myself fully to you, so that others know you belong to me, and I to you. And no matter where we go—I want to make sure that I'll always have you."

Aldonza sighed heavily against him, heated breath puffing against his bare skin, before pulling away and staring into his olive eyes. "I believe you." She stated simply, toying with his fingers against her bare thigh. "I want you. I want to change, and I want you to help me." She glanced up at him through thick eyelashes and whispered bravely, "And you are my one and only. You always have been, Pedro."

With a leap of courage, she leaned forward and kissed him, lips searching desperately for his. As they met, they danced, their limbs tangling with each other's, skin rubbing against heated skin, hot breath being exchanged through whimpering moans, energetic thrusts, wordless babble. "I love you." She moaned into his neck as his hips met hers with a fleshy collision. Pedro groaned into her mouth as he extended his body entirely over her, thrusting and moving at an intensifying rhythm. "You are the only one I have ever loved."

"Pedro?" A loud knock at the door startled the tiring lovers in a sickly sweet voice. "We've brought you new towels and a change of sheets."

"Who the hell is that?" Aldonza hissed as he rocked into her with a steady pace, searching for the perfect angle with strained breath.

"Are you getting ready for mass?" A second voice called through the wooden door.

"Shit." Pedro murmured as his legs stiffened and his voice strained into its higher regions. "Oh… Oh…" His hips beat faster into her, like a steady drum, as the two sped up and crescendo'ed.

"Coming!" Pedro cried out as he gripped Aldonza's shoulders, nestling into her chest at the two reached the peak and slowly floated down, back to earth and into the comforting, feathery grips of the mattress.

"Oh, no, we don't like to trouble our guests. We'll bring it to—" Sister Maria stopped in the doorway, a shocked expression travelling over the caverns of her face. With a loud, piercing scream she turned around and huffed out the door. "Padre!" She screamed frantically.

"No, Maria, it's no use." Sister Julia cried out, entering the room with a clear purpose in her marching feet. "When the heavenly can't reach the guilty, we must bring the guilty to the heavenly." Pedro leapt from the bed and worked to cover Aldonza's trembling, exposed body with the cotton sheets and away from the Sisters' eyes. He was too late, however; Sister Julia gripped Aldonza's shoulders with fierce fingers, pulling her from the bed so that she was barely able to grip the cloth around her. She dragged her through the doorway, Aldonza tripping and fighting to stay in the room. "What the hell are you doing?" She asked violently, struggling against her surprisingly strong grip.

"Hey!" Pedro cried, running towards them as fast as he could with his bow-legged jog.

"Young man, put some pants on." Sister Julia exclaimed with disgust. "You are in the presence of a Sister. Have some respect or get out of my room."

"What are you doing to her?" He yelled as he staggered roughly into a pair of pants.

Aldonza's screams and vicious verbal assaults could be heard echoing through the internal halls of the Cathedral. Pedro followed anxiously, running towards the sound until he was in the Holy Church. He quickly made the sign of the cross and entered the building, where the Padre was seated with a surprised look on his face at the sight of his latest visitors. "What is going on here?" He questioned with gentle curiosity as Aldonza clamored to get away.

"Padre Perez!" Sister Julia attempted to cry over Aldonza's yells. "This—Our guest—" She corrected snidely. "Was found not in her own room but in—"

"Aldonza!" Pedro exclaimed, running to her and placing shielding arms around her nearly-exposed torso. "Padre, if I may—"

"She was sleeping with this man! And there was money involved! Do you—"

"I love her, and she loves me! There was nothing wrong with—"

"Against the core values of this institution—"

"Nothing wrong with love—"

"Let us hear one at a time." The Padre exclaimed in a booming voice, causing each party to cease their ranting with a pointed huff of exasperation. "My daughter," He murmured gently, approaching Aldonza and stroking her face with modest curiosity. "Would you mind telling me what happened?"

Aldonza gripped the sheet around her, roughly shaking off Sister Julia's hands. "Pedro and I were… we were…" She suddenly became tongue tied as she thought of how to word such actions to a Father. Never before had she had such issues stating what she did for a living.

"He was raping her!" Sister Maria cried out as she entered the Cathedral.

"I was not!" Pedro exclaimed roughly, stepping towards the Father. "Please, Padre, you have to believe me, I wasn't—"

"He wasn't!" Aldonza said with heated passion. "We were both consenting. We were engaging in sexual activity, Padre." She murmured with rouged cheeks.

"Under a Holy roof…" Sister Julia clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "What should we do, Padre? Send them away? Report them? Excommunicate them?"

"Nothing." The Padre stated, much to the outraged shock of the Sisters.

"What?!" They exclaimed roughly, snidely exchanging shocked stares.

"Nothing. While it goes against the Commandments, we must believe that everyone—everyone, Sister Julia—has the opportunity to repent for their sins." He bowed minutely to Aldonza, who stared with wide, surprised eyes at Padre Perez. "I would ask, though, that you refrain from those acts under our roof, until—and only if—holy wedding vows are exchanged." He glanced pointedly, almost with hinted intentions at Pedro before quickly turning his attention back to Aldonza. "Take time to repent, both alone and separately, and I have faith, children," He told them with a reassuring smile. "That God will spread forgiveness over you like the wings of great eagles.

"Now, then, please go dress and return in the next half hour. We will depart for our first disciple ministry. Go, and with God's grace." Aldonza and Pedro turned and exited the Cathedral, able to catch a few words of the Holy One's conversation.

"Our latest case, Sisters, is one of a most interesting kind."

"He believes he's a what?" Sister Maria asked in a harsh whisper.

"But it hasn't been around since the fifteenth century…"

"I know," Padre Perez exclaimed, and the two strained in attempt to hear him. "Madness or sin we may not know. It's not a matter of who is he is—knight errant or not—but rather how far he is willing to take it. Now come, Sisters," He told them, brushing the latest news off with a wave of his hand. "It is time to spread the word with our new guests."


	15. Chapter 15

"Come, this way." Padre Perez guided the hooded sisters by the hands, while Aldonza and Pedro crept behind them, hands brushing tenderly against each other's as they made their way through the brick tunnel. There was a small sheen of light emitting from the end of the structure. The five individuals walked with purpose, intent and curiosity, their boots clicking and clacking against the paved road, the rotted cobblestone of yore. The night sky seemed to envelope them with velvet arms, swallowing everything around them except for the whites of eyes, the chilling breath from others against the back of the neck.

"Padre," Pedro began in a strong voice. "Where are we going?"

"Shh!" Sister Julia exclaimed sternly, angling her eyebrows at the man with ferocity. "You'll startle them!"

"Startle who?" Aldonza asked with a smirk slowly sliding onto her face. "We've been walking for hours, not that I'm complaining—" She sighed heavily and pushed tumbling curls away from her face, brightening her view of the murky tunnel.

"Mission work isn't for the meek." Sister Maria stated in a sickly sweet voice.

"Well then who is it for?" Pedro questioned roughly. "The rich and lavish who have to do these things to—"

"It's precisely for the meek." Padre Perez's voice echoed through the tunnel, giving it the authority of a higher power as the gentle voice bounced off the curved walls and into his followers. "It's for everybody, Sisters. There is no one that cannot be benefitted by God's love, for is it not true that God's love is felt when individuals engage in His plan by spreading the Word?" He stopped decisively and turned to face the Sisters and his guests with open arms. "I, for one, am honored to have you help serve, Aldonza y Pedro. I trust you are doing it with a pure heart?"

Aldonza glanced with rusty eyes at Pedro, who nodded vigilantly. "Si, of course."

"Some," Aldonza murmured, surprising herself as the words came toppling out of her mouth without conscious consent. "—might say that we—that I, particularly—am not fit to do the work of God. But I am turning over a new leaf, a new life. I wish to be a woman of God, Padre." She nodded with a wide-eyed expression, and gripped Pedro's hand for support.

"Mi Hermana," The Padre spoke gently as he approached her. "Of course, of course. Tonight, we shall bapti—"

A shrill, terrifying scream suddenly pierced the air, causing the occupants of the tunnel to shrink from shock at the sound of the noise. "Help!" A high-pitched yowl echoed. "Help! Please, God in Heaven, don't let me die—Help me, someone!"

Pedro bolted towards the sound of noise, his heavy boots weighing him down and every additional screech adding to his motivation, his desire to help the helpless victim. Aldonza quickly followed, her skirts billowing in the wind as she caught up to her lover, who was now crouched on the ground and clutching the form of a shuddering man. A woman was hovering over him, heaving with rage as she kicked the howling man, beat him with the heel of her boot and spat on him.

"Stop!" Pedro yelled up at her, trying to block the man from her assertive blows. "Stop it!"

"Why?" The woman yelled, gorging herself with anger and hatred. Her red hair was large and tangled; her shirt was in a similar state, and it hung wretchedly off her left shoulder, where a large wound was festering and leaking from her dark skin. "Why should I? After all the sick bastard did to me—"

"She's lying!" The man hurriedly shouted as he held his leg, which was twisted unnaturally and lying in a puddle of crimson blood. "The useless bitch is lying! She's a twisted scoundrel, nothing but a filthy whore—"

"The scumbag is lying!" The woman cried, dropping to her knees before pushing Pedro to the side with a hefty heave of her body. She proceeded to twist her knees on either side of the man's abdomen and flail her limbs around, beating him with full fists and fiery rage.

"Aldonza, don't you get in the middle of—"

"Get off of him!" Aldonza roughly exclaimed, pulling the wench off with surprising strength as she fought and flailed to escape her grip. She dragged her to the wall of the tunnel and flung her against it, bracing her arms on either side of her shaking figure to prevent her from leaving. The woman was mess, with dirt smeared across her face and neck and arms. Bruises and cuts and gashes littered her exposed skin, which was hardly covered with tattered rags. She had on too much makeup, which was done half-heartedly at best; roughed cheeks stuck out at awkward angles and heavily-lined lids drooped over tired, green eyes. Aldonza ran a hand through her silky curls and examined her own new attire, the luxurious fabric that, save for a few weeks ago, she wouldn't have even dreamed of owning. It suddenly struck her that this woman—this was who she used to be, who she had been for over twenty years. It scared her—this woman was ugly on the inside, dirty on the outside and a literal and figurative mess.

"Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and saving that bastard from getting the shit kicked out of him like he damn well deserves?" The woman screeched in a terrifying tone. She made to push Aldonza's outstretched arms out of the way, to escape, though Aldonza stood firmly and fixed her with a heavy gaze.

"You don't want to do this." She murmured to the woman, who was pressed against the brick with a sarcastic feature carefully rearranging her features.

"What's one more jail sentence?" The woman asked simply, cocking a tawny eyebrow in the air. "What's one more man killed?" She outstretched an arm to reveal crude, black tick marks, seemingly drawn with ink; there were approximately twenty, symbolizing the many men she had apparently ended. "It's all the same."

Aldonza shook her head sadly, leaning in towards the woman as Padre Perez and the Sisters listened from behind. "I know you are pretty upset with him right now," Aldonza began. "—and you should be, but…"

"He raped me!" The woman yelled with teary, incensed eyes. "The damn bastard pushed me up against the wall and forced me to it! Didn't even pay—"

"And you have every right to be angry!" Aldonza explained in a rough voice, trying to jump onto her level, to say something that would make sense to her. "But stop, if not for anything else, so that you won't be in trouble with the law. A lady like you doesn't need another notch on the belt."

"A lady like me?" The woman questioned in an intense murmur. "A woman like _me_?! Who gave you the right to come down here, fancy gown blowing in the wind and this religious bullshit thrown into my face—oh yes, I know about the Church, the one that never lets me come in without scathing appraisals, the shitty Sisters, the perverted Padres—"

"Do not talk to me like I don't know what it's like!" Aldonza exclaimed fiercely. "I know what it's like to have everything you love taken from you, to be beat to near death and forced to live with the guilt that you did something you'll always regret to save your filthy self!" She was shaking with emotion and gripped the woman's shoulder as she spoke.

"You don't know what it's like to—"

"To what?" Aldonza questioned roughly. "To sell yourself to make a living? To have handsy men grab you like property? To break bones and stretch your limits for a few rusty pieces? To have your heart mangled and ripped and cracked by worthless bags of shit who use you for your body and want nothing from you but a good night, God forbid you be exhausted from other things." The woman's eyes slowly widened as she stared at Aldonza, nodding her head with acceptance. Aldonza grabbed her own shirt roughly and pulled it down, revealing the scarred word 'whore' that would be forever tattooed on her skin in rough, puffy letters, a permanent reminder of the hell she had been forced through, that would haunt her.

"It's not all the same." She told her honestly, helping her into a sitting position. "I know it may seem like it, like there's no way out—" Aldonza reached out a hand and softly cupped her face, moving her thumb across her dirtied cheek to swipe away a rogue tear. "But it's not."

"How do you know this?" The woman asked in a trembling voice as she crumpled into herself, knobby knees being pulled into her chest.

Aldonza toyed with the woman' skirt, running the hem through her fingers and moving it so that it was properly covering her exposed undergarments, tucking it neatly in by her ankles. "Look at me." She whispered, staring down at her new self. "Look at who I am, compared to who I used to be."

"But I didn't—I don't—even know you. How could I know you in the past if I don't even know you right now?"

A soft chuckle crackled through Aldonza's throat as her eyes reminisced on the past, staring off into the distance before reluctantly returning to hers. "You heard and you believed." She stated quietly, offering her a small smile. "That's all it takes to cause change. If you believe in yourself—and tell yourself that you can change—you will. It will not be easy. I am new to my journey, but I am walking with the One who makes it all possible—the holy one, the eternal Father in Heaven. You need only believe in Him, give your heart to him, and he will let his Love wash over you."

The woman's eyes were glazed over as she thought about this, began to comprehend, believe that there was a better life out there for her.

"Here we go," Pedro murmured, lifting the man in his arms with the frail assistance of the Padre. The injured man let out a loud wail of pain as his limbs were moved, rearranged. The moans were enough to break the spell of Aldonza's words, and caused the woman to leap up, running with a new passion towards her perpetrator. She gripped Pedro's side with harsh nails and flung him to the ground, budging the Padre out of the way as the man fell helplessly to the ground with a fleshy drop. "You worthless piece of shit!" She screamed, seemingly forgetting the chance at hope Aldonza had mentioned to her. "You killed me on the inside—now it's time for me to end you once and for all!" She retrieved a knife from the depths of her skirts and slowly began to drag the blade over his wrists, her tongue sticking out in sick satisfaction as he emitted yowls of pain and terror.

Pedro climbed to his feet and hurried to the scene, grabbing the woman's wrist as the blade stuck dangerously close to his heart. "You won't get away with this!" The woman yelled at him, spitting in his face as she fought for dominance over the weapon.

"Is there someone here who cried 'Help!' for Don Quixote?" A new voice echoed into the tunnel, causing Padre Perez, the frightened Sisters, Aldonza and Pedro to glance up from their activities, leaving the two quarrelling individuals to their own game.

A man clad in ridiculous, rusty armor rode in on a shabby Pimento, holey boots shifting in old stirrups. He lifted the visor of his helmet to revel watery blue eyes, wrinkled skin and a long grey beard, accompanied by bushy eyebrows of the same hue. "It is I, Don Quixote de La Mancha, come to rescue—what's this? A fair maiden in need of a knight? Never deny, thou virtuous of countenance, for I am here! Back, doer of evil!" He hopped off of his horse with a stumble and clamored towards the scene of action, his armor weighing him down as he awkwardly made his way.

"That's him!" Sister Julia whispered harshly to Sister Maria. "That's who Padre Perez was talking about!"

Aldonza watched with horror as the old man stumbled and tripped, landing on top of the already enraged woman. She yelped as he fought to get off of her; meanwhile, the injured man was wailing as now an additional body was applying pressure to his various limbs, his broken extremities. The woman pushed Don Quixote off of her with a rough shove, her eye now focused on a new victim. She forced herself on top of him and began to bring down heavy fists against his armor before ripping it from him and beating his wimpy figure.

"Enough!" Pedro cried out, motioning for Aldonza to help him in removing the woman from the latest person on the scene. The injured man, the original perpetrator, slowly stood and cried out with pain as he tested the amount of weight he could put on his broken leg. He began to wobble down the road, laughing and calling out a string of lewd names to the woman.

"He's getting away!" Aldonza exclaimed wildly, causing the woman to glance up. Noticing this, she climbed off of the man and hurriedly ran to him, shrieking about revenge and violent intentions as she eventually exited the tunnel and flailed into the night.

"Sister Maria, fetch bandages." The Padre commanded as the group huddled around the recently injured man. Aldonza kneeled next to him and cradled her head in his lap, examining fresh bruises and a few, harmless cuts. Don Quixote groaned and slowly opened one eye to examine that the coast was clear before opening the other. He looked up into Aldonza's eyes and gasped softly, his cracked, pink lips parting with disbelief, with pleasure.

"It's you." He murmured pleasantly. "My lady, you don't know how long I've been looking for thee." Aldonza stared at him with confusion before glancing snidely to Pedro, who shrugged and nodded for her to continue tending to his wounds.

"I—yes, it's me." Aldonza replied awkwardly, keeping his head steady with firm hands as Sister Maria huddled down to tie a bandage around his forehead.

"My lady, the virtuous Dulcinea. I've found thee at last. Never leave me, my giver of hope and love and empathy. I am sorry that you have to see me in this state, my lady, but I humbly accept your graceful touch, your compassionate care."

Aldonza said nothing as she continued to wrap bandages around his arm and check his vitals. What was there to say? This man was evidently insane, either from pain or from illusions—she had never seen him in her life, let alone have such a rapport that they should refer to each other as lord and lady. Don Quixote slowly closed his eyes, the same smile slung across his face like a wounded arm in a cast. "Let's take him back." The Padre announced, guiding his horse closer with a loose grip on the lead rope. "He can stay in Aldonza's old room, since she was transferred to a new room under request, I was told. Sister Maria, Julia—Aldonza?" He glanced at the young woman as she slowly helped Don Quixote onto his horse in Pedro's firm grip. "Would you be willing to help make our new guest at home?"

She nodded quietly, dutifully as she climbed onto the back of the horse and leaned against Pedro's back, wrapping her arms around his middle as the bumping stride of the horse took them back to the Cathedral. "What do I do?" She whispered into Pedro's ear; their horse was ambling slowly up the hill that led to the church, bringing up the rear of the group as it trudged through the night on an unknown trail.

"Sell yourself." He replied simply.


	16. Chapter 16

"Open the door, quickly!" Sister Julia commanded as she and the other Sister struggled to hold Don Quixote's limp figure in their arms. Complying, Aldonza nudged the door open with her hip and stood inside her old room as the older women brought him in and heaved him onto the bed with a rough drop. "There." One of them stated, appraising him before turning to the door, preparing to exit.

"Shouldn't we check on him?" Sister Maria asked her partner, neglecting the fact that Aldonza was even in the room, hovering by the door until she was instructed.

"What's there to check on a comatose madman?" Sister Julia asked roughly. "Wait 'till he wakes up. That's when the real fun begins." She rolled her eyes and maneuvered to the door. "Come, Sister."

Sister Maria glanced at the old, injured man with heavy eyes, hesitantly turning to walk with the other sister. "Come," Sister Julia repeated. "Aldonza can take care of it, right?" Sister Julia fixed a piercing stare on Aldonza, begging her to say differently.

Aldonza nodded minutely, staring directly into the Sisters' eyes as she watched their black gowns flutter behind them and out of sight. She turned to face the old man and ambled slowly towards his bed, her feet dragging with a peculiar sense of dread. Why was she of all people being placed in such a situation? Just a few weeks ago she had been told that she was a guest, that she wouldn't need to lift a single finger for anything her heart could dream of, desire. Now she was clearing dishes, taking care of people, being told through snide glares and body language that she was unable to show affection towards the man she loved simply because of the roof they were under and the circumstances that rode on its transparent coattails.

Why was she complying? Why was she allowing herself to be told what to do? And, more importantly—why was she doing it? Where had her sense of spunk gone? Where was her sense of snarky pride? Had it been killed when she had been forced to kill her only family, otherwise she would have died herself and surely Pedro and Anselmo would have paid the price as well? What was she to honestly do in that situation? Had she made the right decision, despite the split second reaction time she had had to unconsciously make it?

She sighed heavily and dunked a clean rag into a bowl of water next to Don Quixote's bed, and slowly brought it out, draining it of water with a few twists. She dragged it softly over his face, his neck, his scarred and wounded arms. As she cleaned his cuts and began to apply bandages, her mind wandered to the final evening she had been with her father, before Paco and Juan asserted their dominance and forced Pedro and Aldonza out of El Tobozo.

Pedro. Aldonza squeezed shut her eyes and thought of him longingly. His sun-kissed skin filled her eyes with a dream-like presence; his olive eyes stared at her, and his lips formed a hilarious smirk just waiting to meet her lips with a passionate smack.

Something was different, though. Something was changing within her, and within him as well. They were one. They were changing together, like caterpillars that were nestled in the same cocoon that would transform themselves into new beings. But what would they change into? When they emerged, who would they be? Was it religion? Were they shedding their old skins, ways, ideas and transforming into something that would please the Almighty Father? Or were they merely pretending, traveling through the Cathedral incognito so they could reap the benefits of the pleasurable life, the one they had, up until this point, never experienced so they could merely enjoy the pliable hospitality of trusting people of God? How was Aldonza to know which option Pedro was choosing? And what about herself—everything she had known in life was considered here to be a sin. And yet her "sinful" ways were what made her feel alive, were what gave her purpose and substantiality. It was through her sinful acts that she met Pedro. It was through her sinful actions that she fell in love. It was through her sinful actions that she found God.

Just who was she transforming into? Aldonza fingered her silky curls with one hand and continued to stare at Don Quixote, self-proclaimed knight errant. His weak form looked puny compared to his rusty armor, which she began to carefully remove, fingers fumbling with faulty buckles and tarnished metal. She leaned over him to remove the breast plate and startled when she felt a hand lightly caress her face. "My lady, might I always wake to such a vision."

Aldonza screamed harshly and leapt backwards, landing on the floor in a scramble of limbs. "I didn't mean to startle you!" The withered voice of Don Quixote apologized gently.

"Yeah, well you did." Aldonza replied roughly, gathering herself into a standing position and dropping his breastplate onto the wooden floor with a dull thud. She eyed the man wearily, though quickly rushed to him and pushed him back onto the bed as he tried to sit up. "You are in no condition to be moving." She told him sternly, watching his eyes widen at her tone. He smiled softly as he was pushed into the mattress by her strong hand and raised his hands as it to give a nonverbal agreement of truce.

"It is against every moral fiber of my being to do something that would bring displeasure to my lady Dulcinea." He mumbled tenderly as Aldonza sat on the side of his bed and began to wrap a few more bandages around his arms. She toyed with the hem of his tattered shirt before lifting it up to reveal a particularly deep cut that stretched from his chest to lower abdomen. She touched it softly with the rag, blotting and drying the bloodstained skin as it slowly returned to its natural color, a pale, worn out hue that resembled sunlight. Don Quixote winced and, nearly inaudibly, groaned as Aldonza delicately cleaned the wound and searched in her basket for a new, unsoiled bandage.

"My name is Aldonza." She told him in a definite tone as she found a final bandage and stretched it along the cut, using an impromptu kind of tape made out of honey to secure it in place. She placed it along the seams and hummed a tuneless melody as she worked with steady hands. Glancing into his watery blue eyes, Aldonza noticed that he was smiling, shaking his head as if she had just told a fantastic joke. "What?" She questioned a little more harshly that she had meant to. He startled with that same watery, wide-eyed stare that unnerved her. "I mean, what, what is it? What is so comical?" She asked in an airier tone.

"I do not know who this Lady Aldonza is," Don Quixote told her, reaching out a hand to grasp her shoulder with affection. "But she cannot be as fair as my Lady Dulcinea, or I shall have to fight the knight that represents her to show who is, once and for all, the fairest in all the land."

"Tell me about this lady." Aldonza murmured as she pulled the fabric of his shirt over his head, revealing his pale and aging torso and chest.

"What would you like to know?" He questioned, cheeks flushing from his current, exposed state. "My lady, it is unsightly for you to see me like this—Please, will you enlighten me on what you're doing?"

"I've seen a lot worse." Aldonza murmured to herself as she rummaged in the chest of drawers for a clean blouse. "No, Señor, you must enlighten me. Tell me about your Lady Dulcinea." She emphasized the name with a verbal flourish as she dug around for clean linens.

"Well, the Lady Dulcinea is as fair as any creature that walks this Earth. In fact, they shy away from her, too enamored by her beauty to continue living as they ought to." His eyes misted over as he continued to explain the woman that made his heart sing. "Her hair is as dark as midnight, la noche herself, and it sweeps over her gentle, tan forehead with delicate curls and ruffles fit for a queen. And her eyes—" He gasped as he imagined her eyes, his own covered with a glassy, moony sheen. "They are the deepest, clearest hue of blue. Like the ocean, they rock back and forth with the shore, which is my heart. I hold my Lady Dulcinea to the highest and upmost respect, and in return she gives me energy, strength, compassion and persistence to win whatever battle comes before me."

Aldonza was only half listening as she fingered the long blade, surprised eyes staring down at the treacherous-looking sword she had just found buried in the bottom drawer of linens. She had most certainly not placed it here, and Pedro hadn't a sword with him this size or caliber. Had the Padre placed it here for protection, in case a guest was a little more than they could handle as a church? Or had the Sisters placed it here when she had been staying in this room, so that they could stage an incident made to look like an accident? "My Lady, does she not sound as wonderful as all the stars?" Aldonza struggled to drop the sword and shove it to the back of the drawer before removing a linen shirt and pair of pants.

"She sounds unbelievable." Aldonza replied with a concerned smile that he mistook to be one of unbelievable happiness. "She sounds glorious," She continued, helping him into his shirt and forcing her way to his pants, removing them despite his protests and quickly placing the new ones on with the modesty of a nurse. Aldonza threw the pile of soiled linens into a heap in the corner and tucked a warm blanket around his content figure. "Rest until you are feeling able." She told him, turning to leave. "I'm sure your Lady Dulcinea will give you whatever she can to make you feel like yourself."

Don Quixote emitted a small, musical chuckle. "You already have, My Lady."

Aldonza turned to study his gentle countenance, his wizened form. "Aldonza." She corrected him, shaking her head and quickly flitting out of the room. She turned to march down the hallway and smacked directly into the Father. "Padre Perez!" She exclaimed in a surprised squeal. "Lo Siento, Padre, yo…"

"Lo Siento,


	17. Chapter 17

"I need a drink," Aldonza murmured to Pedro that evening as she snuck into his room with quiet, sneaky footsteps.

Pedro let out a loose guffaw as he appraised her slumped over figure of fatigue. "That's why I was surprised when you said you wanted to be… what was it, a 'woman of God?'" He asked, cocking a goofy eyebrow. "For you know women of God can't indulge in something as foul and sinful as alcohol."

Aldonza choked out a laugh as she made her way to his bureau, pouring herself a glass of wine and him a mug of ale. "It's Jesus' blood, mi amor." She stated, turning to face him before slowly, seductively shimmying towards him. "What's wrong with engaging in religious activity? I don't think that's sinful." She purred as she sat on his lap, handing him the mug before placing her lips on her glass and sipping with quiet, intimate slurps.

"You're sinful, Aldonza." Pedro murmured as he took a swig of his own drink.

"Oh?" Aldonza questioned with mock innocence, staring at her lover across the rim of her glass. "How so?"

"How so!" Pedro repeated with stupid grin. "How about I name all the reasons you aren't sinful… Is that alright with you, mi gato?" He waited until she nodded with a good-natured laugh before raising his left hand in the air, counting on fingers silently the reasons she wasn't. He seemed puzzled, after a moment or two of counting, and suddenly put down all of his fingers. "These are the reasons, woman." He murmured, staring up at her through thick black lashes as he took another drink.

"But there are none." Aldonza stated simply, setting her drink next to her and grabbing his hand.

"Exactly. You're sinful in every way." A full smile graced his lips as he finished his mug and sat it next to his bed.

Aldonza pushed him backwards and stood from the bed, watching his surprised form hit the mattress and slightly bounce. "You take that back." She exclaimed with more passion than she had intended. Grabbing her glass, Aldonza stalked to the bureau and examined her appearance in the mirror, adjusting a few locks behind her ears and wiping away smeared lines of dirty sweat.

"What?" Pedro questioned, leaning up on his elbows and fixing his lover with a penetrating stare. "What's got my kitty all feisty?"

"It's nothing." Aldonza murmured, turning in his favor and sitting on top of the wooden chest of drawers. "Nothing worth talking about with a sinner like me."

"Aldonza!" Pedro exclaimed, sitting up and crossing over to her. He held out his arms and waited a few moments before leaning fully into her, palms pressed flat against the mirror behind her. She sunk into his arms and placed her hands around his shoulders and neck, until he was carrying her bridal style to his large bed. Pedro placed her softly on it and was soon joining her, feeling her hands and body and person nestle against his lean muscles, his stretched out body.

"This isn't very sexy." Aldonza muttered, toying with the hem of his ripped shirt, a sign of their dangerous past. "Especially not for a sinner."

"A couple of sinners." Pedro corrected, stroking her forehead with the pad of his thumb.

"Fine, a couple of sinners." Aldonza repeated, tangling their ankles together as she pushed herself more completely against him. The air was alive, with flies buzzing and a few candles emitting light from various nooks and crannies around the room. A light, nighttime breeze blew the linen curtain into the room, tickling the tops of their heads like a teasing kiss. "Pedro?" Aldonza questioned in an uncommonly tiny voice.

"What is it, mi gato de amor?" Pedro questioned, his eyes lulled close as the effects of the alcohol began to show dominance over his system.

"Who do you want to be?"

Pedro opened his eyes with surprised confusion. "Who do I—" He began, his eyebrows knitting together as he fought to comprehend her question logically. "I think you need to stop drinking, Virgin Mary."

Aldonza beat tiny fists against his shoulders and he grabbed her around the waist, in a mini sort of violent tickle fight. "I'm serious!" She exclaimed in a harsh cry, ripping his arms from her body and nudging herself back into place. "Who do you want to be? You know… in the future."

"Well, I hope to be the same person I am now… Pedro Antonin." Pedro mumbled, attempting to think his way through his answer.

"But what do you want to be like?" Aldonza asked him, toying with the hem of his shirt and tracing nonsense patterns across his skin, the fading scar on his abdomen. "Do you want to always be like the way you are—or do you have some part of you that you'd like to change?"

Pedro thought about this, shifting his lips in concentration as he began to think aloud. "I think if I could do it all over again," He began seriously. "I would do it exactly the same. Do you want to know why, mi gato?" Aldonza nodded, closing her eyes to dream of what could be, of the unknown. "Because it led me straight to you. Eventually. It's like I always knew I would end up with you—the question was, how? And now I struggle with an even harder question—why?"

Aldonza smiled against the bare skin of his stomach and sighed softly, feeling the waves of love and admiration soaking into her. "But—" She persisted, rubbing her hand up and down his chest underneath his shirt. "There has to be something that you'd like to change, right?"

"Are you trying to say something, Aldonza?" Pedro questioned with a rough edge.

"I mean, there are things I'd like to change about myself." Aldonza replied, skirting around his question as she mumbled into him.

"Like what?"

"I wish that I could change the fact that we had to leave El Tobozo."

"Why would you—"

"And I wish that I could still have my father. I wish that I was born to parents who loved me, and I wish that people wouldn't assume I'm bad business just because of what I've had to resort to in the past." She said all this quietly, intimately, with vulnerability.

Pedro nodded softly, though an argument began to present itself from his lips. "I am glad we left El Tobozo, mi gato. Now don't be alarmed—" He exclaimed as she startled and glanced up at him fiercely. "—I mean that, because if we had stayed, I would have had to leave you there with my caravan. I had to lead them, you see, and I couldn't just stay because I fell for a woman—an amazing woman, the love of my life, mind you. Do you know how far we would have gotten if we decided to stay in an area just because one of us fell in love, Aldonza?" He laughed as he propped himself up on one elbow, staring down at her with crinkled eyes. "We would have lasted fifteen miles. Anselmo, God bless his soul, would get moony eyes at nearly every woman we would run into.

"It wasn't easy, being the leader of a group of men as raucous as they were. So, in a strange way I'm glad that Paco and Juan betrayed us—not because I don't know what state my brother is in, or the fact that your father is no longer on earth, but because selfishly, I was able to save you and spend the rest of my days with you, if you'll so have me."

Aldonza scooted up his frame, dragging her hands across his abdominals and wrapping her legs around his thighs before placing her lips on his, nodding into the kiss with acceptance. "I will always have you, Pedro." She murmured before once again meeting his lips, caressing his tongue with hers and breaking away with a slobbery smack to rip at his clothes, twist out of her skirt, feel the fleshy collision of skin on skin contact and the insane period of waiting before he was on top of her, teasing her. "Pedro!" She whined as he hovered over her, staring deeply into her frustrated mocha eyes.

"Who do you want to be, Aldonza?" He asked seriously, leaning on one side so that his other hand could caress her face. "Do you want to be the holy one, the woman of God? Or do you want to be—" He leaned down and slowly dragged his tongue from the hollow her throat to the base of her ear, curving along her jawline. "The passionate lover? You can't have both." He added, gripping her shoulders as he brought her to him, kissing her senseless.

"I choose you." She stated simply, pushing up against him until they were a tangled jumble of sweaty, flailing limbs. The candles flickered wildly as the two lovers groaned and grumbled, created one being. Soon they were floating back to earth from the heavens and falling to a second heap of limbs, this time content ones. Aldonza snuggled into Pedro's shoulders and stroked his chest, fingers tangling in the sparse, curly hair. "I have something to tell you, Pedro." She mumbled into his skin.

"Anything." Pedro replied soothingly.

"I… When I was tending to Don Quixote this morning, he called me his lady. His Lady Dulcinea."

There was a few minutes of static, confused silence. "Okay." Pedro finally responded, patting her shoulder. "I—Thank you for telling me, I guess."

"No, Pedro, you don't understand the full extent of the problem." Aldonza mumbled, shifting underneath the sheets to prop herself up on her elbow. "He thinks I am his Lady, the one who gives him strength to live, the one that believes in him, encourages him… The one that loves him, Pedro, and the object of his affection."

Pedro laughed softly, unable to keep the snarky, snide giggles from escaping his shaking form. Slowly they became more raucous, more loud, more prominent until his entire being was shaking with passionate, loud laughter. "What is it, Señor Antonin?" Aldonza asked angrily. "You don't think I can be?"

"A lady?" Pedro questioned, trying his best to control his overwhelming laughter. "I think you're capable of anything you put your mind to, mi amor. Besides," He added, wiping a stray tear from his eyes. "It's not like you want to be his lady." He looked up into her mocha eyes and questioned curiously, almost rhetorically, "Do you?"

Aldonza thought about this and shook her head with initial passion. "I know to whom my heart belongs to." She replied, calming once more before settling back into her makeshift nest of blankets and limbs.

"Well, then, that's all that matters." Pedro murmured with finality. "Anything else you need to tell me about this Quixote man?"

"You're brushing me off." Aldonza stated seriously.

"Brushing what off?" Pedro questioned, looking at her naked skin and seeing no dirt. "You're not dirty—"

"You're avoiding the subject." Aldonza said quietly, rolling her eyes with an annoyed shake. "You're blowing me off—you don't believe me."

"Believe you?" Pedro asked with confused eyes. "I believe you, mi amor."

"Do you believe that Don Quixote called me his Lady?"

"I—sure, I guess—"

"See?" Aldonza exclaimed wildly. "You don't!" She sighed heavily and made to get up, though was stopped by Pedro's dominating hands wrapped around her middle longingly.

"Mi amor, please." He cooed softly into her ear, lips tickling the tender skin softly. "You know how I am. I have to see something before I fully understand. Once I see him, I'm sure he'll be just as loony as you say. But give the man a chance—he was beaten by a pretty violent red head. Maybe she knocked the sense out of him."

Aldonza laughed darkly and settled calmly back into his arms. "Fine." She told him in a complying voice. "You know, if you weren't so damn attractive, both physically and mentally, you'd be facing a lot more problems."

"Oh yeah?" Pedro asked, grinning fully to expose his white, only slightly-crooked teeth. "How?"

Aldonza fixed him with a piercing stare. "Like this!" She cried out, jumping on top of him and wrestling him until Pedro was on his back, her knee in his chest preventing him from moving with surprising strength. Her exposed form hovered over him as she brought loving fists into his torso, his shoulders, peppered his neck and chest with tiny kisses.

"This is so painful." Pedro exclaimed with mock agony.

"Good, it's supposed to be." Aldonza told him as she worked down his torso, massaging his legs and glancing up at him with a fixed stare every once in a while. She tickled her toes against his legs and made her way back to his neck, whispering in his ear, "I think the Sisters are against us."

"Welcome to reality." Pedro scoffed automatically, surprising the young woman. "But why, what made you say that? It's obvious they don't like you."

"It—it is?" Aldonza questioned innocently, almost with a twinge of embarrassment.

"The Padre might not see it, but it's pretty clear to me. The way they treat you, the way they moved your room, and now how you had to take care of the loon by yourself. The only thing I'm wondering is, why do you put up with it?"

Aldonza sighed, having already asked herself this same question. "I found a sword in the bottom drawer of the linens bureau in my old room." She stated, decisively dismissing his question. "And I didn't put it there, I know you didn't put it there—and for some reason, I'm doubting that Padre Perez would be in possession of such a weapon. Pedro, I think the Sisters were planning to cause an accident. Or at least something that looked like one."

Pedro thought this over, his eyes darting around the room as if he was connecting the dots in the situation. "What are we going to do?" Aldonza asked him, gazing up at his stony, thoughtful face.

"We are going to be sheep." He told her, rubbing her curls and tracing his fingers from her shoulders to her torso and belly button. "We are going to act innocent. We are going to follow our shepherd, the wise Padre himself. But when the wolves strike—we run. We do whatever it takes."

"And Quixote?" Aldonza questioned softly. "Who is he? Wolf or sheep?"

"There's only one way to find out, mi gato." Pedro told her, closing his eyes heavily. Soon he was fast asleep, soft snore causing his tummy to rise and gently fall. A new day would bring the two firsthand experience on how to fully commit to their shepherd with blind trust, trust that would give them faith that no wolves—internal or external—would do them any harm.


	18. Chapter 18

The cock crowed with a screechy yowl, signaling the early beginnings of morning as streaky rays of orange and red sunlight crept over the horizon. Aldonza stirred from her position in Pedro's arms, trying to untangle her limbs from his and shift out of the heap of skin and blankets without waking her lover. Delicately, she peeled his hand from her shoulder and snuck out from underneath his heavy arm. Her exposed form was silhouetted by the faded sunlight that caused the curtains to dance and the morning to whisper a timid 'hello.'

"Might I always wake to such a vision." Pedro crooned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and watched Aldonza's backside as she searched for a clean shirt and skirt for the new day.

"Oh, stop that." She growled playfully. "You're beginning to sound like that old crack-brained Don Quixote."

Pedro barked out a quick laugh, rearranging himself on the bed and pulling the sheets taut around his figure. "Does he really talk like that to you?"

"To me?" Aldonza repeated with a snarky attitude. "Why, yes, Pedro. Haven't you heard, he thinks I'm a lady."

"Well, anyone with eyes could see that." He stated with his characteristic smirk. "Your curves, your breasts, your hair." He stood behind her and wrapped his hands around her middle, pressing his naked body against hers. He toyed with the hem of her shirt and lifted it up, maneuvering his hands so that they were searching the skin underneath it, fondling and caressing with delicate fingers that drove Aldonza wild with desire.

"He thinks I'm a proper lady, one raised by the silver spoon." Aldonza managed to get out as she leaned her neck back onto his shoulder. Pedro stooped to ravage the exposed, tender skin with kisses, causing Aldonza to moan colorfully.

"That's not very lady-like." Pedro chastised as he removed his lips from her skin and turned her around with strong hands, adjusting her blouse before placing a kiss on her sternum, mouthing over the permanent, degrading scar.

"It's all a façade, remember?" Aldonza questioned in a serious tone, smacking his shoulder playfully as she struggled to remove her figure from his and pull on her skirt.

"Remind me." Pedro stated, leaning towards her with his hands leaning against the bureau. Aldonza was trapped between the piece of furniture and her lover, and she looked around curiously before meeting his gaze.

"I… I am going to approach the Padre, like usual, and tell him I desire to start truly becoming a woman of God in all ways. And you…" She reached out a single finger to poke his nose with a bouncing motion. "You, Pedro Antonin, are going to play the role of the dirty stableman, who's trying to veer me off course. This will get the Sisters talking, who will try to convince the Padre to kick us out for our sinful ways. But, being compassionate and a man of God, the Padre will never do it but will instead approach you, ideally with me tagging along, and ask you to change your ways.

"When the Sisters see that the Padre is not taking the action they desire, we will see if they will resort to violence—meaning the sword in the old room."

"And that's where we'll see which side Don Quixote is on, correct my smart little kitty?" Pedro asked with a grin.

"Correct." Aldonza told him, turning to face the mirror to adjust her hair and apply the day's makeup. "Are you prepared to be mean to me? For the plan?"

Pedro brought back a hand a gingerly smacked her butt, causing Aldonza to leap forward with a surprised "Oooh!"

"As long as I can see you in the evenings, I am prepared to do anything. It's vital for us to figure out just how far the Sisters are willing to go before we make our exit. And you're sure," Pedro began, toying with her hair as she pulled it into a coarse bun. "You're sure the Sisters placed the weapon there?"

"Who else could it have been?" Aldonza questioned snidely, meeting Pedro's olive eyes in the mirror. "It wasn't me. It wasn't you. Don Quixote had no such weapon. That leaves the Padre or the Sisters, and I'm confident it wasn't Padre Perez."

"Or a previous guest." Pedro supplied with a cocked eyebrow.

"The Sisters are bound to change the linens, though." Aldonza reasoned, fixing her lipstick before smacking her lips softly together. Pedro," She turned towards him and gripped his shoulders, leaning up to touch her nose to his. "You have to believe me."

"I do." Pedro responded automatically, smiling against her lips. "I do. We'll go through with it—just let me kiss you one time before I have to be rude to you in front of them." Aldonza giggled with a soft, musical vibration before his lips were on hers, dancing with talent and passion and a gentle kind of rhythm. Pedro gripped her cheek with elusive fingers and angled her lips against his, tilting her head back and playing with her tongue as the door clicked open and a startled Sister Maria let out a soft yelp.

Aldonza pulled away from Pedro and pushed him back softly. "How dare you!" She squealed, her eyes growing in mock horror. "Just because I am a woman doesn't give you the right to use me for your own personal pleasure!" She backed up from the room until she was running into the Sister, who gripped her shoulders in a motherly fashion.

"Dear, what happened? I thought you were supposed to be in the Southern wing."

"I—Pedro forced me against him, Sister!" Aldonza squealed, barely able to look at her lover.

"When you're with me, we do what I want." Pedro growled, taking a few determined steps towards the ladies. "Now get the hell out of here, Aldonza. Apparently, that's what you want—not that I should care."

Aldonza fled the room with a tiny cry, leaving Sister Maria to slowly drop the fresh linens and exit the room herself.

"Sisters, Aldonza, Pedro, Señor Quixote!" Padre Perez called from the depths of the Cathedral. "It is time for breakfast! Please, let us join around God's table and give thanks."

The occupants made their way to the kitchen, where a small breakfast of bread, cheese, yogurt and fruit was laid on the table. Aldonza seated herself kitty corner from Pedro and shifted her eyes downward at his gaze. Joining hands, the Padre began their morning with a prayer.

"Father God, Almighty Creator," He began, closing his eyes with respectful solitude as he spoke. "It is with the greatest pride and happiness that we present our hearts before you. We ask that we may be changed into servants for you, and that we give our lives solely to you and your master plan for the world. Father God, please instill with us the discipline we need to be your disciples to those who need witnesses, who need love, who need you. Please help us to transform into a being that is pleasurable in your sight. In Your Son Jesus Christ's name we pray, Amen."

"Amen." The table echoed before opening napkins, the clanking of silverware and dishes providing background music for the individuals as they began to eat their morning meal.

"And may—" Don Quixote continued, his eyes still closed with determined tightness, creating crinkles that framed his eyes. "These individuals around us be shown what their true quest is in life like you have so granted me. For each one of us is battling a dragon, and we must rise from our heap and put on the armor of your love to defeat it. May the knight always win, and may we strive for the impossible quest! Amen!" He shouted with a loud flourish, opening his eyes to meet the wide ones of those around him.

"He's a madman." Sister Julia whispered in what she thought was a quiet voice to the Padre. Don Quixote failed to notice this and instead spread yogurt over his bread before folding it and eating it with a content sigh.

"If I may be so kind to ask," Padre Perez began with a polite smile. "What is your quest?"

"Ahh, the quest!" Don Quixote exclaimed with vigorous zeal. "The ultimate quest, you understand, is something to constantly be lived for." He nodded as if he had fully explained and used his fork to stab at his cut up fruit.

"But… What is it?" Aldonza asked timidly, wide, innocent eyes meeting Pedro's for a quick second before flitting away and returning to Don Quixote.

"It is to dream the impossible dream." He stated simply, setting down his food and silverware to fan his hands in the air around his face. "It is to fight the unbeatable foe, and to bear with unbearable sorrow. The quest is to run where the brave dare not go, and to do so with a valiant heart."

"And how would someone go about accomplishing something like that?" Pedro asked roughly through a mouthful of bread.

"Why, Señor, by righting wrongs that to many seem unrightable."

"But how?"

"By loving each other." The Padre responded simply, nodding from his place at the head of the table. "With God's eternal Love he so gave his only Son."

"Precisely, Padre!" The wild knight errant exclaimed, clapping his hands together with excitement. "It is to try even when your arms are too weary. But, most importantly, it is to strive to reach the unreachable star, my friends. This is my quest, if I must sum it up to you—to follow that star no matter how hopeless, no matter how far it may seem. We must be willing to fight for the right, even if that means we must march into hell for a cause we deem heavenly."

"But why do you do it?" Sister Julia questioned with knitted eyebrows. "What's the point? What are you, Señor Quixote, getting out of it?"

"It is my life goal." Don Quixote replied automatically, placing his hand over his heart in a symbolic tribute.

"He is doing it because it is his destiny." Aldonza told the Sisters with angled eyes.

"Ahh, My Lady knows the quest in her heart!" Don Quixote exclaimed. "For I know that if I am true to my lady and my quest, my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I am ultimately laid to rest, whenever Destiny herself decides it is my time.

"The world will be better for my quest." Don Quixote continued, neglecting his food to meet the eyes of the curious church guests.

"And how will the world be better from one man?" Pedro asked in a scathing tone.

"One madman." Sister Julia muttered under her breath. It was all Aldonza could do not to give up her disguise and leap across the table and grab her throat.

"Will the world not be better if one man, despite being scored and covered with scars, strives to meet his goal to right the evils in the world with even his last ounce of courage? Is it not passion that drives the clock of Mother Nature herself? For if we have passion for nothing, is all we have unused passion?"

"What's wrong with unused passion?" Aldonza questioned seriously in a timid voice. "Isn't it just passion that is going to waste?"

"Ahh, the ultimate shame. Multiple shame!" Don Quixote exclaimed ardently.

"So you're saying, " Pedro began, cocking his head with a snarky grin. "That the only way to accomplish this quest of yours is by dying, and dying with passion." It was a statement, not a question, and Pedro finished it with a mean chuckle. "You're mad."

"He's passionate!" Aldonza piped up, causing the other table members to stare at her.

"No shit." Pedro responded, standing from the table with a dominating stance. "We've established that."

"My Lady knows all about the quest." Don Quixote cried happily. "The Lady Dulcinea is the reason I am able to continue my quest, for without her love, encouragement and tokens of fair esteem, it would be impossible to fight the unbeatable foe. Sweet sovereign of my captive heart, I shall not fail thee." He told Aldonza, standing and folding his napkin into a rose before handing it to her with a gentle bow.

The young woman took the makeshift rose and set it lightly on the table, unable to meet the surprised stares of the other individuals. She noticed Pedro's fists clench tightly, and she prayed that he was able to keep the mask of the façade they were putting up through the madman's declarations of love.

"I have dreamed thee too long, never seen thee or touched thee but known thee with all of my heart. Half a prayer, half a song—thou hast always been with me though we have been always apart, my fair Dulcinea. Now that I have found you," Don Quixote continued, crossing to Aldonza and stroking her face with gentle fingers. "I see heaven. Your name—it's like a prayer an angel whispers. Let my fingers but see thou art warm and alive and no phantom to fade in the air. For if I were to lose thee, my lady, I would be nothing, and my quest—the eternal quest—would be impossible to achieve. Now I've found thee and the world shall know thy glory through my actions, through my battles, through my undying love of thee."

A few moments of silence passed as Aldonza stared into the crazed man's eyes. What was she to believe? He was obviously crazy, a bumbling lunatic who had had some episode or event happen to him that had caused him to believe he was a knight errant, and she a virtuous lady. She might be putting up a façade, but she was not so talented as to turn herself into a Lady who was full of grace and wisdom. One could only stretch themselves so far.

But still, something in his eyes seemed to speak personally to her, like a new scribe was scribbling over the words on her soul and writing new ones. Yes, it was like Don Quixote was, had been and always would be within her. She couldn't explain it, and she hated it—and yet it was. It was irreversible. It was able to be camouflaged, but only for so long.

And what was this new feeling that had emerged within her? It was fuzzy, tingling, pulsing with life. It was bright and airy and yet electrifying. It wasn't love. It couldn't be love, for Pedro had already taken her heart.

There was no way in hell—right or wrong, unbeatable foe or not—that Don Quixote was stealing her heart. She would never allow it, never dream of it, because if there was one thing Aldonza was certain of, it was that she and Pedro were soul mates, destined to be together through hellish circumstances, though with each other nonetheless. It was harder to realize this through the tough façade they were acting out, however she knew, deep down, that he would always love her, that it was killing Pedro to act like a complete jerk to her. It was probably reminding him of Paco, of Juan, and then leading to unknown answers to questions about Anselmo, his hermanito.

Aldonza cleared her throat and tore her mocha eyes away from his watery, beady blues. "It's Aldonza." She stated simply, bowing before excusing herself from the room. "Aldonza del Tobozo."

"Who is Aldonza?" Don Quixote questioned seriously as the Sisters began to clear the table and Pedro gathered his things for a day of work in the field. The Padre let out a small chuckle before grabbing the knight errant's hand and leading him into the church. "Come with me, hermano." Padre Perez exclaimed. "We shall pray."

"Pray for my Lady." Don Quixote supplied with reverence.

"Si, and for your quest." The Padre finished. "Pray for help, for all of us." He mumbled to himself. "For we need it, Father."


	19. Chapter 19

Aldonza squeezed her thighs against the fair Pimento and with a loud cry moved the horse forward, bouncing on its cantering form as the wind took her hair in its grips and allowed it to billow, like a stray curtain or flowing banner. She rode through the tall fields of maize and felt the wind nip lovingly at her skin, her face, her exposed calves that were sitting sideways on the animal. It was a lazy, determined ride. The young woman could be paying the least amount of attention possible, yet she knew she would be kept from the alluring arms of danger. The animal knew where it was going, had roamed these fields many times before, and was strong, decisive. It was the Padre's prized possession, and she had only been able to convince him to let her ride it after weeks of religious training.

As a part of their ploy, Aldonza had been adamantly involved with the Padre, learning the rules of discipleship, what it meant to fully give up the sinful nature of the past and how to commit herself to her heavenly Father. These classes lasted hours, half days. There were days spent where she would fast from dawn until dusk and then have another round of study before eating a meager meal of rice and beans at half past midnight. Usually she became sick from this forced food. "The body needs nutrients, but only so much." The Padre would tell her as he held her hair back as the vile liquid and bile escaped her bent over, wracked form. "You must purge yourself of the earthly sin and fill yourself up with the armor of righteousness, mi hija."

During these times Pedro would watch from the shadows, helpless and unable to do anything as to not distract, give away their disguise. It killed him inside, to see her in so much pain and be unable to do anything. Yet this was the road they had chosen. They had to see just how far others would go so that they would know how to escape. It was simply not feasible for them to stay here forever; not only did they not want to, they could not ask to be guests for such a long time, no matter if they were deemed 'hopeless' or not. They were human beings. They were bound to make mistakes, but they were also bound to follow their hearts, trust in their minds to help them survive even the deadliest of situations. In many respects, they were following their own impossible dream. They were all insane, honestly; perhaps too much sanity was madness. For their hope in better things, in returning to El Tobozo and finding Anselmo alive, these were the ideas and thoughts that were keeping them motivated to continue this torturous ploy. Perhaps, they were all Don Quixote, and yet only one Señor had the courage to display whole heartedly his beliefs.

After Aldonza would empty her stomach, the Padre would pat her loosely on the back, recite a prayer of thanksgiving and then leave her to the rest of the evening to think about her actions, prepare her body for another day of fasting, of praising, of worshiping the Lord with her mind, heart, spirit and soul.

By the time the bedraggled woman would climb the stairs to her own room, she would often collapse on the floor, or sometimes if she was lucky, the bed, and fall into an uneasy, dreamless sleep. Pedro had taken to waiting inside the room, helping her safely to the bed so that she would not hurt herself any more by falling roughly to the floor, and helping her into sleep clothes before holding her and singing softly to her as she fell asleep. "I know it's not easy for you, mi amor." He would croon lightly, a few stray tears leaking from Aldonza's clenched eyes. "But soon, you and I are going to sprout wings and fly away from this place, away from this torture. And you, my little bird—you are going to lead the way."

Aldonza often wondered where she actually stood on these matters that she was forcing herself into. She had been what many would consider the ultimate sinner, the scum of the earth, a filthy whore who was no more than a pair of open legs and a few coins. Now, however, she was trying to change—but was it simply for the ploy or did she really want to transform her being into one of righteousness? She despised the sessions with Padre Perez. They were long, tedious hours of study, and what had she gotten out of it? A loss of ten pounds from lack of eating, a lack of energy and religious knowledge of Saints and Apostles. The young woman was unsure of what the future held for her, but one thing was certainly defined in her mind—she wanted to be away from this place. She wanted to be in a place where she no longer felt she had to look over her shoulder at every turn, or pretend she didn't see the Sisters' scathing, judgmental gazes as she walked by. Aldonza simply wanted to live in a place where she and Pedro could show affection towards each other instead of being sent to separate dungeons to idly spend their time twiddling their thumbs. Why was a place so religious, so highly thought of, acting as their own personal prison? And when—just how many more days—would Aldonza have to endure before they could make their escape?

As her religious studies had kept her up so late and often forced her into fibers of exhaustion, Aldonza had been unable to fulfill her promises to Pedro of spent evenings, of quiet love making, of conscious time spent with her lover. She squeezed her knees against the horse and felt it jolt forward, forcing her to grab onto its black and white mane for steadiness. Soon she was entering a clearing, where there was a forest of thickly-scented cinnamon trees. The smell wafted through the air and enveloped Aldonza like a thick velvet curtain. The air positively reeked of sweat and cinnamon, and a slight breeze wafted it through her eyes, her nostrils, her hair. "Pedro?" She called out softly, pulling on the horse's mane to slow it down now that she had reached her destination. "Mi amor? She dismounted the horse and tied it loosely to the branch of the tree, watching as it dipped its head to drink from a deep puddle. The grass was still wet from the morning doo, and as the young woman slipped her shoes off and quietly padded through the grass, she could feel it sink in between her toes, like a parental kiss from Mother Nature herself.

"I was starting to wonder about you." Pedro called from atop a branch. He swung from it and leapt to the ground, landing at Aldonza's feet. "Hola, mi gato."

Aldonza responded by placing a fueled kiss against his lips, pushing him roughly into the bark with the force of her passion. "I've missed you." She mumbled against his chin as she began to aim her kisses lower, moving from his cheeks to jawline to chin to the tender, scruffy skin of his neck. "Oh God, how I've missed you."

Pedro grabbed onto her hair as she pressed her figure against him, beginning to breathe heavily. Her fingers tore at the hem of his shirt and forced it over his head. Pedro's hands clenched around her butt and forced her up to his lips, which met hers with a loud smack. He moved his lips, angled them until he was sucking softly on her open mouth. She replied with a loud groan into his mouth. Pedro's hips twitched, and he carried her gently to a grassy area where he had laid out a few blankets. Placing her upon the ground, he leaned over her until her legs were wrapped around his torso, her hands clawing at his bare back, his defined muscles. "Pedro." She whined with incredible need.

"Patience, mi amor." He muttered in a strangled voice, taking time to place delicate kisses from her ear to her sternum, leaving a trail as she gripped his black locks with intensity. Meanwhile, his other hand snaked underneath her blouse, cupping her breast with a gentle fondle. He shoved his hips forward, bucking against his uncomfortably tight pants. Aldonza hurriedly shoved them off of his figure, hands cupping his ass and shoving him up to her. She did her best to fumble out of her skirt, and soon she was moaning, searching desperately for his lips as he brought his hips into hers with a fleshy, smacking collision. Pedro gripped her hair and gently caressed her face as his hips sped up with a fast rhythm. His mouth reduced to nothing but a slack-jawed, open bit of skin as he concluded with a final, ecstatic twist of hips. Aldonza cried out as she gripped his shoulders and helped Pedro physically and emotionally come down from their high. She nuzzled into his shoulder and pulled one of the blankets around them, nestling them together with tangled, sweaty limbs and pleased, euphoric smiles.

"I've missed you." Aldonza told him as Pedro nuzzled his nose softly against his, smiling with content, relaxed eyes.

"And I, you." Pedro responded, pulling her closer to him so that Aldonza was cocooned in his strong arms. "You can't imagine the hell I am put through every time I see you retching from that awful system the Padre is putting you through. All I want to do is come up and help you, hold you as you shake and empty your stomach."

"But you can't." Aldonza stated sadly, eyes shutting with remorseful lids. "And I understand that."

'But it's working, mi gato." He mumbled into her hair. "The Sisters are obviously sensing that something is going on between us—something not good. And I can almost guarantee you that they believe it is due to you seeking religion and me not outwardly proclaiming that I am a sinner."

"Isn't it ironic?" Aldonza muttered quietly so that Pedro had to lean even closer against his lover to hear her. "That as soon as I am finished with my religious studies I outwardly disobey the very man who taught me and the very core beliefs I am supposedly so adamant in by finding you?"

"Irony is key." Pedro supplied with a musical chuckle. "It is the spice of life." Slowly the sunlight filtered through the trees as dusk began to approach. In and out of sleep the lovers dazed until the air around them was thick with humid air and the buzz of nocturnal flies.

"Pedro?" Aldonza questioned quietly as she untangled herself from the blanket and pulled on her ravaged clothing. He followed suit, hazily wiping sleep from his eyes and pulling on his pants.

"Si, mi amor?" He asked in a light tone.

"Do you think Don Quixote wants anything from me?"

"What would he want?" Pedro asked logically, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. "I mean, you have lots to offer, do not take my words and twist them, that is not what I meant. I simply mean, what would he gain from you that he does not already have?"

Aldonza considered this with angled, confused eyes. "He doesn't see me for me, though. He sees me as his Lady Dulcinea."

"Si, I understand that, mi princesa," Pedro stated, mounting the horse before offering Aldonza his hand. "What I am saying, though, is that—"

"I cannot comprehend why he thinks that I am something so special."

"But you are." Pedro told her, feeling her arms wrap around his middle as he kicked the horse to start their journey home.

"But to him?" Aldonza questioned, scoffing lightly in the back of her throat. " I don't think so. I mean, why does he say the things he does? A lady? The name an angel whispers? You may feel that way, yes, but this—this old bastard is, well, old. He doesn't know me from anywhere, and yet he's convinced I've always been with him!"

"It is a puzzlement why he does these things," Pedro agreed with a gentle nod. "I couldn't tell you."

"He's marching through a dream." Aldonza muttered, resting her head against his back and jostling with the slight bounce from the horse's lazy walk.

"What else does he call you?" Pedro asked curiously, tightening his grip on the horses mane.

"Do you want the short list or the long list?" Aldonza asked sarcastically, coughing through a sharp laugh. "Let's see… Lady, Dulcinea, Thou Highest Lady of his Affections, The Wind Beneath His Wings, The Air that Supplies His Breath, Most Lovely Sovereign and Highborn Lady, Sweet Sovereign of His Captive Heart…"

"Wow." Pedro muttered, steering the horse up the hill to the cathedral where a single candle was left in the window, signaling the Padre was still in prayer.

"He's slightly maddening in himself." Aldonza stated roughly.

"Irony." Pedro murmured with a small chuckle. "The madman is maddening."

"But doesn't he know that he'll be laughed at and fiercely mocked wherever he goes?" Aldonza asked, hardly able to see the humor in the situation. "No one is ever going to take him seriously. No one is willing to."

"It is only an observation," Pedro murmured. "But it is one I have seen. Maybe he would start seeing you as the opposite of a lady—take, for instance, your past—if you were to act more like it."

"We can't do that!" Aldonza cried wildly, clutching tightly around his middle. "We'd give up our façade that way. And then where would we be? Still here!" She breathed heavily against him, her figure heaving up and down.

"I know, I know Aldonza!" Pedro returned with a calming cry.

"Besides," Aldonza continued, attempting to view her situation logically. "If I were to do that, he might only try to convince me I am his lady after all, that I was having an identity crisis or something."

"Which would be worse?" Pedro asked as they made it to the stable and he hopped off the Padre's horse, helping Aldonza down before grabbing her hand and walking the horse to its proper stall. "To be found out by the Sisters or to be ostracized by a crazed lunatic?"

Aldonza stopped suddenly and swallowed deeply, nodding to Pedro and dropping his hand. "Well, we're about to see." She murmured in a fatal voice as the Sisters emerged from the shadows of the stable, grim expressions rearranging their features with a pleased, gruesome smile.


	20. Chapter 20

Pedro gripped Aldonza's shoulders as the two took slow, deliberate steps backwards. "This can all be explained." He murmured to the Sisters, who were advancing on them.

"I'm sure it can be." Sister Maria spoke with gentle viciousness. "Just as your actions can be explained and made up, so can ours."

"Pedro, get your hands off of me!" Aldonza shrieked, wide eyes staring helplessly down at his hands, which were strongly clenching onto her shoulders, holding her in place. She struggled against his form, arms and legs flailing, and yet she was unable to break free due to her own will, her own indecisiveness on whether they were acting the façade and playing fools or experiencing sheer reality.

"Give it up, Aldonza." Sister Julia commanded, retrieving a spade from the wall of the shadowed stable. "You aren't afraid of him and you know it. In fact," She tested the sharp point of the tool with her pointer finger, gauging its fatality. "You never were. You came here, a filthy bundle of shit, madly in love with him. Or at least what you might consider to be love. What are you, Aldonza? Tell us—did you really think you would be able to trick us—the Sisters of the Holy Catholic Church—into thinking that a good for nothing, useless whore would want to change her ways?" She scoffed loudly and spat on the young woman's bare feet.

"Si," Continued Sister Maria. "And then to go behind the Padre's back, only to be seduced by the only man around that would take you? How could you do such a thing in the holy offices of the Church? You call yourself Catholic, a Christian woman—well I, my dear, call you excommunicated." She nodded to Sister Julia, who brought the spade sharply down on Aldonza's bare feet. The young woman let out a sharp cry and struggled against Pedro's grip to instinctually grab her injured limb. Pedro, however, was unrelenting and held her to his chest, forcing her into stiff, pained position. Her eyes widened and her heart began to race as she wondered if he was still playing the ploy, or whether, in some sick, twisted sense of reverse psychology, Pedro was switching sides.

"Prison will not treat you kindly." Sister Julia told her, twisting the head of the spade into her wounded foot and grinning with disgusting pride as Aldonza cried out, the veins in her neck popping through the flesh as she titled her head back and pierced the nighttime air with a terrifying yowl. Sister Maria stepped to the side and grabbed a rake from the wall, keeping to herself. "But then again, maybe you're used to being treated like your nothing."

"You take that back!" Pedro cried out, clenching his fists and extending them through his hold on Aldonza to the frightening Sister. "She is worth a thousand of you!"

"Ahh, you want the same, eh?" Sister Julia scowled, finally removing the tool-turned-weapon from the young woman's paling foot. "We can arrange for that. All scum should be sent to prison—and you're no exception, you ungrateful bastard. Now, Maria!"

Maria extended the rake behind Pedro with the pointed edges sticking up, and he tripped backwards on it and landed with a surprised cry on the ground, the spears from the rake digging painfully into his bag. Aldonza landed forcibly on top of him with a soft "Oof!" Pedro finally released his grip on her to extend his hands underneath himself, scrambling backwards with the young woman still on top of him. He scuttled backwards in a panicked rush until he ran severely into a wooden stable post. Pedro glanced to the side and pushed himself up the wall, heaving Aldonza up with one hand and grabbing a whip with the other. He swung it wildly around his head as the livestock around him startled and shifted their weight through the humid air and hay, adding to the deadly soundtrack of the night.

"I would be careful with that if I were you." Sister Julia spoke with a calm, measured tone. "Prisoners who arrive awaiting the Inquisition are bad enough. But those who await the Inquisition after having beaten a woman? A Sister?" She clucked her tongue with a harsh, high-pitched laugh. "They're treated the worst of all."

Aldonza leaned against the edge of a stall and examined her bloodied foot; various strings of muscle fibers were hanging from the deep gash that nearly penetrated through her entire foot, and it was littered with dirt and pieces of sharp hay. "You keep asking us how dare we come into your sanctuary only to tarnish it." Aldonza managed to choke out, despite being blinded by pain. "But you—you two—I have a question for you. Why in the hell are you two Sisters if you have genuine hate in your hearts?"

"How dare you!" Sister Julia exclaimed as Sister Maria stepped forward, brandishing the rake with a wild shake.

"You did nothing to make me feel welcomed here!"

"You ungrateful bitch!" Sister Maria cried out, poking her foot dangerously with the rake's spears and causing Aldonza to fall to the dirtied floor in agony. "Do you know who took care of you when you arrived? Who dealt with your spasms, your sickness? Who stayed by your comatose state? Who convinced your decrepit lover that you would be okay, that you would return to him? What do you call that?"

"I call it a ruse!" Aldonza wailed, eyes clenching closed as pain-induced tears forced their way through her eyelids.

"Well then it looks like we're on even playing grounds, whore!" Sister Julia cried in a hateful tone. "Yeah, that's right—I said it! What, Aldonza, are we playing games here? Are we done with the mind games? Why can't we just say it how it really is—call each other by who we really are? It's obvious that the disgusting people you associated with at your last haunt were able to see reality and call you who you really are. They scarred you for life so that everyone would know you as a woman who is nothing better than an object—a filthy, stupid, unwanted object." She smiled evilly with exposed teeth, sauntering forward with the spade lifted above her head. "You've tried running, Aldonza, and look how much good that did for you." The young woman turned her head to either side, heart beating nearly out of her chest as she realized Pedro was nowhere in sight.

"So where are you going to go now? You've got no one to rescue you. But you never did—not really. See? Look around you—no one is here. That Pedro character was pretty trusty, huh?" Sister Julia asked with mock interest, kneeling down to the young woman who was barely able to lean up to look her in the eye. "But now that it's come down to it, where is he now? The infamous Pedro, the one whose name your lips have cried out, fondled, spoken with such respect and awe. Don't think I haven't heard you—I know everything that you've ever done. The Padre may be the head of the house, but the Sisters—we are the eyes and ears. And it disgusts me that you would beg for our hospitality only to abuse it, meanwhile faking that you wanted to change only so you could escape with more than you started with."

"We had to get out—" Aldonza whimpered, trying to keep her trembling lips in a solid line. "We couldn't just leave without worrying how you would react. You would have made it look like an accident! I know you would have!" She spoke with a wild, crazed tone and glint in her eyes as she struggled to remain conscious from the amount of blood she had lost and the pain she had experienced.

"We still can, sweetheart." Sister Julia mumbled to her with a sickly sweet smile. "You're so learned in your ways, yet so naïve. Aldonza the whore… Has a nice ring to it. But tell me, Whore Aldonza—where is your knight in shining armor now? Where is the arduous Pedro to save you now?"

Sister Maria let out a startled shriek and dropped the rake she had been holding before darting out of the stable. Sister Julia turned her head just in time to see the tip of the blade charging towards her from the edge of a large sword. It crushed through her temple and she staggered backwards from the blow. Her mouth hung open in surprised horror, her eyes agape as black lashes spread from them like an overhanging veil. Pedro pulled on the hilt of the sword as Sister Julia began to mumble nonsense. Her pale face seemed to drain of color as he removed the weapon from her skull, and with a sick sound her body dropped to the ground like a water balloon dropped from 100 meters in the air.

"You won't get away with this." She mumbled in a final gasp of air. "God punishes the guilty." With a final choke of air, Sister Julia's body became limp, lifeless. Pedro leaned down to close her wide eyes and murmured with a grim smile, "He already has."

Pedro quickly rushed to Aldonza's paling figure, lifting her gently up into his arms as she struggled to keep her eyes open. "Stay with me, mi gato." Pedro pleaded as he walked her gently into the moon-drenched courtyard in front of the stable. "Please, stay with me. I can't lose you." A few tears leaked from his eyes as her pink lips began to move, mouthing the air and urging sound to desperately emerge.

"I… I am here." She choked out in a hoarse voice. "I will always be with you, because you are who I choose now, who I chose then, and who I will choose always."

Pedro laughed through a constrained sob, gently placing his lips on her grimy forehead with a remorseful kiss. "I am so sorry, mi gato." He choked out, holding her close to his stomach.

"It's okay." She replied in a tired voice, her eyelids growing heavy. "But we've reached it—the point of no return." Aldonza stared up at him with uneasy mocha eyes. "What do we do now, Pedro?"

The man turned to look inside the stable where the corpse of Sister Julia laid loosely, a small pile of blood forming around her head. The hay around the scene of the crime was crumbled, with blood smearing where Aldonza's foot had been, where she had scuttled backwards; the spade and rake lay in various positions in the stable, weapons on the scene of the crime. "We turn this act into an accident." With the gentlest of arms, Pedro set Aldonza down so that she was leaning against the mouth of the stable, body angled against the front post of the structure. He ambled towards the body and nudged it near the spade, kicking hay around her make it appear as though an animal had trampled over her. He opened the doors to the stalls of the confused animals and secured the gate at the front of the stable. "And now, mi amor—we leave."

"Not so fast!" The wizened voice of Don Quixote filled the nighttime, the thick darkness accompanied by thinly-streaming moonlight around them.

"Get out of the way, you crazed lunatic!" The harried voice of Sister Maria called out, approaching the group with the Padre being dragged at her side. "Look, Padre Perez—look what these two have been up to! Look—I can't bear to see it with my own eyes—they killed Sister Julia!"

The Padre examined the scene of the crime with dull understanding, his searching eyes meeting those of Aldonza's as his hand slowly reached out to caress her shoulder. "Mi hija, how could you do this? To us? To the church? To your Almighty Creator?"

"Did someone call on the help of Don Quixote de la Mancha?" Don Quixote exclaimed louder, stumbling from his horse with a rusty clank of armor.

"Padre Perez, forgive me—forgive us!" Aldonza stammered quickly. "But you don't know the whole story! The Sisters, they—"

"Whatever they did it was not deserving of death, of treason against the High Commandments of your Father!" The Padre yelled in a terrifyingly gruff voice. "I am so ashamed of you! You had come so far—and now you've slipped right back into your treacherous ways!"

He turned from Aldonza and faced Sister Maria, who was bawling at the loss of her close friend. "Padre Perez, it wasn't Aldonza who killed her!" Pedro bellowed, stepping in front of his lover protectively. "It was me. I killed her. But she—she tried to kill us! And Sister Maria helped, too!"

"The Sisters would never do such a thing!" He exclaimed wildly.

"From the moment we arrived they have been nothing but hateful towards us, Padre!" Pedro exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders and swiveling the older man towards him. "You have to believe us! They hid this knife in Aldonza's old bedroom, they cornered us in the stable tonight when we were returning your horse—they threatened and acted out a plan to kill us! We had to kill her in order to save ourselves!"

Sister Maria composed herself enough to squeak out a few harsh words, stumbling towards them through her sob-wracked form. "That's all you ever think about, isn't it?" She questioned roughly. "Yourselves! You filthy, ungrateful people! I can't believe the nerve you have!" She pounced fiercely towards Aldonza, who could hardly stumble backwards before receiving the full weight of her trembling, rage-fuelled body.

Pedro pulled Sister Maria off of his lover with a fierce cry and held her inches from the ground by the collar of her robe. He brought back a single hand and smacked her silly across the face, listening as her neck popped from the uncomfortable blow. "You don't touch her!" He yelled fiercely into her face, shaking with rage as Aldonza crawled and tried to help herself back onto her feet.

"Thou wouldst strike a woman?!" Don Quixote bellowed, charging towards Pedro as Padre Perez forcibly grabbed Sister Maria from Pedro's grips.

"Stand back or I'll break your empty head!" Pedro challenged loudly, unsheathing the sword from his belt and holding it dangerously out. "All we want to do is leave. Let us do so, and no one will suffer the consequences."

Don Quixote stopped inches from Pedro, halting with his boots in a comical manner. "And where will you go?" He asked in a change of heart with genuine curiosity. "Where will the road of your fate take you?"

"To El Tobozo." Pedro responded, gruffly staring up at the old man. "We have some unfinished business to take care of. We have our own quest, if you understand those terms better."

Don Quixote clapped with visible excitement, his eyes growing wide. "A quest! Let me lead the way—for we shall go wherever the road may lead! Isn't that right, my Lady?" Aldonza barely had enough energy to shake her head as she cradled her foot with tender hands.

"I want you to leave." Padre Perez exclaimed with harsh finality. "Get. Leave. Scram!" He cried out, falling to his knees to examine the trembling Sister Maria. He helped her to her feet and cradled her shoulders, slowly ambling up the hill on their way towards the church.

"With pleasure!" Pedro exclaimed, leaning down to pick up Aldonza. Leading her towards Don Quixote's steed, he lifted her safely into the madman's arms, who gazed upon her countenance as if he was a blind man seeing sunlight for the first time. Sister Maria snuck from underneath the Padre's aiding arm and procured a small blade from inside her skirts, hurrying over to Pedro's turned back and stabbing him sharply in the shoulder with a burst of renewed energy.

"You ungrateful bastard!" She cried out before putting up her fists, one holding yet another weapon. Pedro let out a muffled cry as he smacked the horses butt, leaning over its back as it galloped up the hill and away from the Catholic Church and scene of the crime.


	21. Chapter 21

The gentle hilt of the horse's trot nudged Aldonza awake. Her eyes opened slowly, cautiously. She saw a gray mass obscuring her view of the purple morning sky, and she struggled to comprehend what the coarse hair and pale skin could be. The young woman was keenly aware of a few things, the first thing being a throbbing pain in her right foot. The second thing she was aware of was that she was loosely being carried, though her head was held stable in a man's large hands.

The air around her was crisp yet warming, as if the landscape was a pot that had been set over open flames to warm the day's delicious atmosphere. Aldonza scrunched her nose towards her eyes and slowly brought back her tongue to lick her chapped lips, to taste life. Clearing her throat, she found her voice and exclaimed weakly, "Who are you?"

"Lady Dulcinea!" Don Quixote cried with excited surprise. "God was kind, for he knew it would leave me vulnerable and deflated to the point where I could not accomplish my quest, which is ultimately His quest, without you by my side!" He pulled on the horse's mane until it came to an uneasy halt, jostling the three bodies on its back with slight agitation.

"Aldonza." Pedro exclaimed in a weak yet loving voice. "You're okay."

"I… I am." The young woman replied, leaning to a sitting position with the aid of sturdy hands. At the new movement she suddenly flung forward with the grace of a newborn calf so that she was leaning against Don Quixote's chest, her head propped up against his shoulder and her feet twisted underneath her. Pedro reached out to caress her face and placed his forehead against hers, rubbing his nose softly against hers and whispering, "I was so scared I wouldn't see you again."

"You never need to worry about that, mi amor." She replied in a husky voice. "I don't go down without a fight." A grim smile separated her lips, which puckered when Pedro brought his upon her cheek.

"Shall we stop and make camp?" Don Quixote bellowed cheerfully, pleased and suddenly renewed now that his lady was conscious and functioning properly.

Pedro glanced up to take in their surroundings. They were in a field of wild flowers, tall grasses shooting from the earth like wild, vibrant hair. A lake was nearby, he could tell, as the croaking of frogs and buzz of flies could be heard in the distant through the thickening air. "We shall stop for a few hours." He began, slowly climbing off the horse before lifting Aldonza from her original seat. "But then we must go. We are so close to El Tobozo. And one thing is definite—I don't trust the delusional safety of anywhere until Paco and Juan are dead."

Pedro removed his over shirt and stretched it out on a grassy knoll before placing Aldonza gingerly on it. He returned moments later with a worn out saddle bag. Opening it, he retrieved fresh bandages and offered her his hand. "Squeeze this." He told her, retrieving a needle and thread from the depths of the bag. "This is going to hurt, but I have to clean it." The man brought surprisingly nimble fingers to the mouth of the gash and slowly peeled the flesh back, cringing as Aldonza yowled out in excruciating pain. With determination and steady hand, Pedro proceeded to remove the dirt and prickling hay from it, pushing stringy muscle fibers back into the wound and daringly plunging a hand into it to rearrange stranded bones. Aldonza squeezed his hand until it was turning purple, causing Pedro to bite nearly through his lip. The skin around the wound was bruising, patches of grey, yellow and blue combining to form a putrid color that seemed to emit a dangerous odor. Still, nevertheless he worked patiently and progressively until he was wrapping the soon-to-be-soiled cloth around her foot, padding it with protective ease and snipping the threads as he sewed the bandage together.

"Thank you." The young woman whimpered as she laid on the blanket, releasing her firm grip on Pedro's hand yet keeping her limp hand in its shadow.

"Señor Antonin!" Don Quixote exclaimed, falling to his knees and bowing to the surprised man. "It is with my greatest honor and dignity that I thank thee for helping restore my Lady Dulcinea to her greatest and most effective health."

Aldonza glanced snidely at Pedro, her eyes revealing that she had hoped when she returned to consciousness she would be waking from a dream, and that is crazed lunatic was merely a harsh illusion her mind had made up. Pedro shrugged and handed her his mug. "Drink." He told her, nodding to the old man and placing a hand on his shoulder. "It will dull the pain, both of your foot and of, well…" He nodded again in the direction of Don Quixote and patted his shoulder, standing up with dignity and dominance. "You're welcome, Señor Quixote." He called out in an authoritative voice. "Now, let us set up a brief camp. May I have thine right hand to do me this fair service?"

Aldonza giggled at Pedro's adopted language, trying to muffle the musical sound against the lip of the mug as she took another swig of alcohol. "I grant thee!" Don Quixote exclaimed, standing up quickly and trotting towards his horse. "Is Señor Antonin hungry?"

"I could use some nourishment." The man replied as he gathered firewood and dumped it in a cleared spot; someone had clearly camped here before. "But thy lady is weak from her injury, and needs it more than I. Prepare enough for her; whatever she does not wish to consume, we shall feast on." Pedro rolled his eyes towards Aldonza at having to speak like this, but turned quickly to offer a large, comical smile to Don Quixote.

"Precisely what I was thinking." Don Quixote supplied, reaching for a second saddle bag before tethering their horse to a nearby tree branch. From the depths of the bag he pulled out a hunk of stale bread, some seeds and a rare pair of apples. Promptly he seated himself on the ground and began to pare with the apples with a dull knife, humming a merry tune.

Pedro knelt by the pile of wood and set to work rubbing sticks together, tending to a tiny flame that emerged and began to consume the dry kindling. "Pedro!" Aldonza gasped as she watched her lover's shoulders move back and force, muscle straining through his blood-stained shirt.

"What is it, mi gato?" Pedro exclaimed as he jumped to his feet in a defensive stance.

"Your shoulder!" Aldonza cried out, attempting to raise herself onto her elbows, though her weak body protested.

"What about it?" Pedro questioned, slowly looking around the meadow before returning to his knees and work.

"It's all bloody. What happened—did you get stabbed?" Pedro supplied her with a nonverbal answer and a sad nod of the head. "Who did this to you?" Aldonza's voice was fierce, wild as she questioned him.

"Sister Maria." Pedro answered, though quickly added, "But I can't even feel it. In all honestly, until you mentioned it I didn't even remember it was there." He winced as he added more firewood to the burgeoning flames, the wound stretching and causing him more pain than he'd like to admit.

"But what if it's infected?" Aldonza questioned seriously.

"And what if your foot's going to fall off?" Pedro questioned with a rough retort. "We don't know what's going to happen, Aldonza! We could be sitting ducks right now. All I know is that I'm trying to get through the hours before I kill those evil traitors, those sick bastards that hurt you and I and our loved ones."

There was a quiet tension in the air as Aldonza mulled this over, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the gruesome, bloody wound. "Listen, Aldonza, I'm—" Pedro began.

He was cleanly interrupted by the exclamation of Don Quixote: "The food is prepared!" The wizened man stood with a stumble and brought over a small cloth-full of food to the young woman. Pedro abandoned the now-blazing fire and sat behind his lover, helping her into a sitting position with sturdy arms and legs. "My lady," He greeted, handing her the cloth with a small bow before exclaiming, "Eat, and may it bring thee the greatest of health!"

Aldonza emitted a little giggle as she watched the crazed knight-errant strut towards the fire and begin to warm his hands by it. She glanced down at the food and smiled warmly before tearing off a small chunk of bread and chewing it with slow, deliberate moves. Her eyes closed as the nourishment entered her body before more, more, more came, more filled, more supplied.

"Remind me again of your quest." Don Quixote bellowed from his place near the fire. "If you will so entertain, Señor Antonin."

"We wish to return to El Tobozo." Pedro replied, sneaking a piece of apple from the pile. "We are on a mission to retrieve my brother, and avenge Aldonza's father."

"Why avenge?" The older man asked, turning towards the two with curiosity.

"He was killed." Aldonza replied darkly through a crisp bite of apple.

"And do you wish to kill the others?"

"If it proves so necessary." Aldonza replied, casting her eyes around the meadow as she thought of this.

"No," Pedro corrected, gripping her shoulder. "We will. They will not have the pleasure to see life, not after what they did to us."

"They were your friends." Aldonza mumbled through a mouthful of seeds and bread.

"And they betrayed me." Pedro stated darkly through heavily-lidded eyes. His lip curled venomously as he concluded, "And no one betrays me."


	22. Chapter 22

After resting for a few hours, replacing bandages, eating their share and allowing the fire to burn out, Aldonza, Pedro and Don Quixote saddled up and continued the day's journey towards the village of El Tobozo. As they steadily approached, Aldonza grew nervous, anxious and excitedly clutched the burlap fabric of Pedro's shirt. "What is it, mi gato?" He asked reverently as he steadied himself behind Don Quixote, who was leading the horse up a steep trail.

"We are close." She muttered, resting her chin on his shoulder so that she could speak into his ear for a more intimate conversation.

Pedro nodded at this observation and snaked a hand behind him, squeezing her thigh with reassurance as their feet bobbed together from the horse's jerking movements. "Pedro," Aldonza murmured, mouthing against his ear. "What if they aren't there anymore?"  
"Impossible." Pedro exclaimed with rough finality. "They have to be there. They would not give up such a chance."

"But—"

"Look at what they have in their control, Aldonza." Pedro exclaimed roughly, though the gruffness was not directed to her but their course of action. "They have an inn, they have guests, they have the old man's farm next door. Hell, they have the knowledge that we are more than likely coming back, eventually. Why would they give up more riches than they've ever known simply to go back to their old lifestyle? I'll tell you why: They wouldn't."

Aldonza considered this and sighed heavily, moving her hands from his shoulders until they were squeezed tightly around his middle. "And what if they outnumber us?"

"They do." Pedro answered truthfully, turning his head to brush his nose against hers. "But we are stronger. We have an advantage. Hell, little kitty, we have a crazed lunatic—there's no telling how that last fact will prove for us, but I am leaning towards the idea that spontaneity will throw them off their usual course."

"And if we find Anselmo—"

"When we find him." Pedro corrected with tight lips.

"Si, when we find Anselmo, we'll—"

"Aldonza." Pedro interrupted, nuzzling his nose against her paling cheek. "We are going to win. So I do not want to hear any sad sighs, or what if questions, or final declarations of love. Because you and I are going to be able to celebrate when we kick their asses, when we defeat those who thought they could triumph over us. We are going to take back what we deserve, and we are going to avenge your father's death. You and I—we are in this for the long haul, and I will accept nothing less than victory. Do you understand?"

Aldonza nodded fiercely, a few tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "I love you, Pedro Antonin." She mumbled in a thick, honest voice.

"And I love you, Aldonza." He leaned backwards to place his lips on hers, moving them slowly at first before picking up speed, slurping through a loud smack as she moved higher to reach his. Pedro pulled away reluctantly as Don Quixote slowed the horse and they crashed together. They had reached the top of the hill, and pushing through the rusty gates, they entered the courtyard of the inn.

It was abandoned. The table was flipped, and the ground around it was littered with shards of glass, empty wine skins, ceramic plates that were smeared with rotting food and swarming flies. Planks of wood were ripped from the table's face and strewn about, as if they had been used for impromptu sword fighting, or battles to the death. The doors that led to kitchen swung eerily from their hinges; one was hanging on by quite nearly a thread, and it stumbled against the hay-strewn ground like a failing limb.

"Where are those who call upon Don Quixote de la Mancha?" Don Quixote bellowed loudly. Pedro clapped a hand over his mouth fiercely.

"Be quiet!" He exclaimed gruffly, reluctantly removing his hand. "You'll scare—"

"Who?" Aldonza questioned. "Everyone who's around?"

"What if they're hiding?" Pedro hissed in a cautious voice. Aldonza glanced around with renewed energy and skepticism. She placed a hand on his back and rubbed gently as he stumbled off the animal and helped her down. "I know what this looks like." Pedro stated, walking angularly around the fallen table. "But it's not the case. They're here. They're waiting. And we're—we're their targets."

"Shouldn't we search for those who so desperately need our help?" Don Quixote questioned, finally dismounting his horse with a rusty clank from his armor.

"Don't you get it, old man?" Pedro questioned roughly. "We are the ones who are in need of desperate help!"

"Oh, well then how can I be of service to thee?" The wizened man questioned, bowing deeply.

Pedro let out an angry sigh, turning violently towards the inn. "Help us find our enemies." Aldonza supplied, approaching Don Quixote and placing a hand on his back. "We must find them and fight them, for they have done us wrong. Do you think you can help us—help me," She emphasized, batting her eyelashes. "—do that?"

Don Quixote positively beamed with happiness. "For you, my lady," He replied, grabbing her hand and placing a ginger kiss on top of it. "—I would do anything."

"Perfect." Aldonza replied, surprising herself when she leaned in and hugged the old man. "Now let's go kill some bastards."

"My lady!" Don Quixote exclaimed with shock. "It is unsightly to speak in such a manner for a woman of your position."

"Not where I come from." She replied as she followed Pedro through the creaking doors of the inn. She patted one of them cautiously, emitting a dark chuckle. "Where I come from, you learn to speak like that as un niño, as a survival method."

"Surely the finest silver spoon in all of El Tobozo would have prevented thee from using such language, Lady Dulcinea." He stated adamantly.

"Yeah, well, the spoon is rusty and sharp edges."

"Aldonza." Pedro stopped dead in his tracks, coughing as though he were about to be sick.

"What is it, mi amor?" She asked in a tentative voice. "What is ahead?"

"Aldonza, don't come in here."

"Pedro?" Aldonza questioned, the fear in her voice tangible. "Pedro, what's wrong?" She hurried towards the sound of her voice, fighting through the swarm of her warning words.

"Don't come in here! Turn around, we need to not go this route. Aldonza, you will regret this. Don't come, mi amor, turn back!"

Aldonza rushed towards the inner kitchen and halted to a stop when she saw him. Fernando's rotting, leaking corpse was hanging from a crude noose in the doorway. A breeze that was emerging from an open internal window was eerily swaying his body against the wooden door flame with a fleshy, wet bumping sound. A piercing scream erupted inside the cramped hallway and Aldonza rushed backwards from the sight, unable to tear her eyes away from the rotting flesh, the pieces of internal guts and organs and intestines that were hanging as though an animal had been in here and made a feast of the dead.

The young woman stumbled backwards until she was falling into Don Quixote's arms. "Get me the hell out of here!" She managed to choke out before she was vomiting violently, being carried out of the building with Pedro following quickly behind. "Those disgusting sons of whores!" She cried out through a particularly painful heave of her body. Pedro leaned over her, holding her hair as she emptied the meager contents of her stomach. She was sobbing and heaving and her wracking frame was becoming weak yet fueled with hateful rage. After finally ridding herself of the poison, she fought to stand up straight.

A new glint was clear in her eye. It was dark, velvety and murderous, like the plumes of a raven. "Let's kill them." She stated in a harsh, crackling growl. "Let's kill them!" She repeated in a treacherous scream. With a renewed and passionate energy, the young woman charged forward into the inn and took the stairway, winding up until she was out of sight. Pedro and Don Quixote quickly followed, weapons brandished and eyes glued to their shadowy, shifting surroundings. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" Aldonza cried as she opened a door and examined the contents of the room before slamming it shut with a wild crack. She continued down the hallway and flung open each and every door, Pedro and Don Quixote following suit in the opposite direction.

"There's no one up here!" Pedro called out, meeting Aldonza at the mouth of the stairs as she began to quickly march down them. "Well then we check everywhere else." Aldonza murmured in an intense growl.

Together the three searched the contents of the ravaged inn, searching in the bedrooms, the servants quarters, exiting through the courtyard. "It's empty!" Aldonza screeched madly. "How in the hell can it be empty?"

"Maybe they aren't here, love." Pedro cautiously stated, approaching her with open arms.

"Don't you go changing your mind on me now!" Aldonza yelled fiercely. "You were the one who said I was crazy for thinking such a thing. Now you believe it, and you believe it fully with your heart—the sick bastards are here, and we're going to find them."

"My lady," Don Quixote interjected with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, don't you 'My lady' me too or I'll crack you like an egg!" She replied in a treacherously wild growl. She nodded to Pedro before securing a sharp blade in her hand, walking determinedly into the kitchen.

"She's insane." Don Quixote stated to Pedro, head nodding towards the young woman.

Pedro spat roughly on the ground and rolled up his sleeves. "You should be talking."

Just then a high-pitched scream pierced the air around them. It caused birds to fly from the rafters of the building for the hair on the back of necks to stand on edge. It was blood-curdling. It was pained. It was coming from Aldonza.

Pedro ran into the kitchen just in time to dodge a knife that was flying his way. Juan grinned viciously as he grabbed another knife and prepared to throw it fatally towards Pedro. "Let her go!" He yelled severely, grabbing the knife from the floor that Juan had thrown and stepping quickly and hazardously towards his old cronies. Don Quixote emerged minutes later in the doorway and stumbled loudly into the room, his armor clanking on nearly every service. When he saw Aldonza being held captive and at knife point, he cried out viciously and ran towards him, faceplate down and blade outstretched.

Juan sidestepped the old man and grabbed the hilt of his sword, twisting so that the wizened fool fell to the ground with a harsh clatter. Pedro outstretched his foot towards Juan, causing him to fall on top of Don Quixote. He grabbed his large sword from his hilt and brought it above his head, bringing it dangerously close to Don Quixote's head as Juan backflipped out of the way. A snide smirk filled his putrid face as he motioned for Pedro to come towards him, extend the fight. "Come on, oh fair and fearless leader!" He mocked rudely as Aldonza struggled in Paco's grip. "Come and beat me. Or, let me beat you to it!" He whipped out a whip from his belt and cracked it towards Pedro and then Aldonza, who let out a high-pitched yelp before being suffocated by Paco's large hand. Pedro turned to stare at Aldonza before charging towards Juan with a loud battle cry.

Juan thrust the whip to Paco before digging a blade out of his pocket and plunging it into Pedro's leg. Pedro let out a terrifying scream and used his uninjured leg to knee Juan squarely in the groin. The enemy fell to the floor but was soon standing, though hunched over. Suddenly Don Quixote was behind Juan, and soon the hilt of his sword was being pushed through Juan's back with such force that it stabbed clear through to the other side and dangerously close to Pedro's nose. With difficulty Don Quixote removed the sword and wiped it on the counter, leaving a trail of blood and guts as Juan sank to the floor, dead.

"That was a very stupid move." Paco told them in a loud, deep, steady voice. His grip tightened around Aldonza's throat as he toyed with the hem of her shirt, revealing her scarred bosom. "Oh, I see the whore still has her little tattoo from our last encounter. Would you like another one?" Aldonza refused to answer, instead biting on her lip to keep from crying out. "Answer me, bitch!" He yelled as Pedro and Don Quixote began to move towards him.

"Never!" Aldonza shrieked. Paco grinned maliciously and whispered in her ear, "Oh, that was the wrong answer—the wrong answer indeed." He revealed a knife in his hand, testing the point of it on her already scarred skin. "Let's think of a new word for you, my little wench." He thought aloud, digging on the old scars with the tip. Aldonza met Pedro's eyes and nodded, sending him the signal of an understood plan. "How about… Wench?" Paco suggested, retracing the w in the previous scarred word, 'whore,' until the skin open and bled, beginning to ooze out before rampantly gushing down her chest, into her shirt. "No, no, how about 'bitch?'"

"How about lover?" Aldonza asked, managing to stir within her a seductive voice. She twisted in his arms so that her lips were slowly pressing against his, her body painfully pressed against Paco's.

This was the signal. This was the time—do or die. Pedro grabbed the hilt of the sword and thrust it towards Paco's open chest. It would barely skim the curve of Aldona's back. It was routed to go directly into his heart, through his back, killing him nearly instantly. It would cause him to release his grip on Aldonza, drop the knife, and allow them to claim their victory before leaving the place forever.

But then everything went wrong.

Paco pulled away from the surprised kiss and smacked Aldonza, cracking her neck with a painful pop and pressing her body forward, against his chest, so that Pedro's blade stabbed through the hearts of both Aldonza and Paco.

Aldonza clenched her eyes closed as the blade was quickly removed from her chest and her limp form collapsed forward into Pedro's surprised arms. "Aldonza!" He cried in a shocked sob. "No! No!" He screamed, falling to his knees to cradle her head, her legs and arms. He applied pressure to her chest in attempts to stop the gushing blood, but it was no use. Paco stumbled the floor, hitting his head on an outstretched blade that dug through his skull, killing him instantly.

"What have I done?" Pedro asked, caressing his lover's paling face.

"You saved us all." Aldonza told him in a weak voice, reaching out a trembling hand to caress his face one final time. "Thank you."

Pedro's chest heaved with a heavy sob as he placed a kiss on Aldonza's chapped lips. He watched as her mocha eyes began to lose their spark, until the lids were growing almost too heavy. "Aldonza." He moaned, feeling the spark of life leave her body as he held her close to him, unable to see clearly through his wretched tears.

"My name," She murmured against his cheek. "—is Dulcinea." With a final breath, the young woman went limp in her lover's arms.


	23. Epilogue

Don Quixote patted the dirt around the newly-dug grave and set the shovel down, placing a supportive hand on Pedro's shoulder. The younger man knelt on the ground, forehead pressed against the crude cross made out of the branches from nearby cinnamon trees. A few tears leaked from his eyes as he said goodbye to the love of his life, the strongest person he knew, his lover, best friend, Aldonza.

"Even the greatest men make mistakes." Don Quixote murmured from above Pedro's shadowed form.

"I do not wish to be consoled right now." He huffed through an approaching wave of emotion.

"Neither do I. But she wasn't the Lady I thought her to be." Don Quixote mumbled sadly, turning to secure the saddle bags on the fair Pimento.

"What do you mean?" Pedro questioned roughly.

"Well, the Lady Dulcinea would never die, for she is my immortal supplier of happiness, motivation and courage. If she were the Lady Dulcinea, she would still be here."

"Don't you get it?" Pedro questioned the loony knight-errant. "She always was."

"Was always what?" Don Quixote questioned with confusion.

Pedro mulled this over as he dug the blade into the piece of wood, anchoring it in the ground near where her body had been laid to rest. "Aldonza del Tobozo," It read in careful, concise script. "Rest in Peace, Mi Amor." He hesitated before carving on a third line and reading it aloud, "Dulcinea."

He placed a final flourish on the name and arranged a few wildflowers around it, mumbling words of love, sorrow and pleas of forgiveness. "Shall we go, old friend?" Don Quixote questioned, nodding with sorrowful respect at the young man.

Pedro looked around him, at the grave and up the hill towards the Inn, where their story had begun and so shortly ended. "It is time for a new life." He stated decisively. "I can no longer be Pedro Antonin, for he is to remain here, forever and always, with his lover Aldonza, the Lady who is truly Dulcinea."

Don Quixote raised his eyes with surprise, though nodded with understanding. "You shall be my squire." He exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder before mounting his trusty steed. "And you shall be known now, and forever more, as Sancho."

Sancho nodded, repeating his name and grinning at the sound of it. "Now let us go, most faithful of squires—for we have lots of adventures to go on and rights to wrong." Sancho mounted the horse and held on tightly to Don Quixote's bouncing form as the horse galloped away from the Inn, onto the road of fate to forever reach for the unreachable star.


End file.
